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....  Library  No. 

V.  S.  N.  S. 

3RT 


Presented  by 

DO    WOT    REMOVE    FROM    LIBRARY 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


GIFT  OF 

Commander 
William  P.  Riesenberg 


Shelf. ~~ - Library  No.       ,,,.■   — 

N.  Y.  S.  N.  S. 
SCHOOLSH/P  NEWPORT 


Presented  by. 


DO    NOT    REMOVE    FROM    LIBRARY 


THE  SEA  KOVEKS 


A   GLOUCESTER  FISHERMAN 


THE 

SEA    ROVERS 


By 
RUFUS    ROCKWELL   WILSON 

Author    of   '*  Rambles    in    Colonial    Byways,"    etc. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  MAY  FRATZ 


NEW  YORK 
B.    W.    DODGE   AND    COMPANY 

1906 


Copyright,   1906 

BY 

B.    W.    DODGE   AND    COMPANY 

New  York 


Q-540 


CONTENTS 

Chapter  Page 

I.    Gloucester  Fisher  Folk 1 

II.    An  Ocean  Flyer's  Crew 28 

III.  The  Man-of-Warsman 61 

IV.  Soldiers  Who  Serve  Afloat 94 

V.    The  Police  of  the  Coast 121 

VI.    The  Ocean  Pilot 149 

VII.     The  Deep-Sea  Diver 169 

VTIL    The  Lighthouse  Keeper 198 

IX.     Life-Saving  Along  Shore 231 

X.    Whalers  of  the  Arctic  Sea 254 


942 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


FACING 
PAGE 


A  Gloucester  Fisherman — Frontispiece 

The  Captain  of  an  Ocean  Liner  42 

A  Man-of-Warsman  76 

An  Officer  in  the  Revenue  Cutter  Ser- 
vice 128 

Pilot  Signaling  a  Vessel  156 

A  Diver  Ready  to  Descend  180 

A  Lighthouse  Keeper  214 

A  Life-Saver  on  Patrol  242 


THE  SEA  ROVERS 

CHAPTER   I 

GLOUCESTER    FISHER    FOLK 

A  glorious  vision  is  Gloucester  harbor, 
whether  seen  under  the  radiant  sun  of  a  clear 
June  morning  or  through  the  haze  and  smoke 
of  a  mellow  October  afternoon.  Gloucester 
town  lies  on  a  range  of  hills  around  the  har- 
bor, and  fortunate  is  the  man  who  chances  to 
see  it  as  the  background  to  a  stirring  marine 
picture  when  on  a  still  summer's  morning  a 
fleet  of  two  or  three  hundred  schooners  is  put- 
ting to  sea  after  a  storm,  spreading  their 
white  duck  against  the  blue  sky  and  fanning 
gently  hither  and  thither,  singly  or  in  pic- 
turesque groups,  before  the  catspaws  or  idly 
drifting  to  eastward,  stretching  in  a  long  line 
beyond  Thatcher's  Island  and  catching  the 

1 


2  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

fresh  breeze  that  darkens  the  distant  offing. 
Here  the  green  of  their  graceful  hulls,  the 
gilt  scrollwork  on  the  bows  and  the  canvas 
on  the  tall,  tapering  masts  are  reflected  as  in 
a  mirror  on  the  calm  surface;  or  beyond  they 
are  seen  heeling  over  to  the  first  breath  of  the 
incoming  sea  wind  that  ruffles  the  glinting 
steel  of  the  sheeny  swell,  forming  as  a  whole 
a  scene  of  inexhaustible  variety  and  beauty. 
Such  a  spectacle  gives  the  stranger  fitting 
introduction  to  Gloucester,  for  from  earliest 
times  the  men  of  the  gray  old  town  have  been 
followers  of  the  sea.  It  was  three  years  after 
the  landing  of  the  Pilgrims  at  Plymouth  that 
the  first  Englishman  settled  on  Cape  Ann,  at 
the  place  now  called  Gloucester,  which  took 
its  name  from  the  old  English  cathedral  city 
whence  many  of  its  settlers  had  come. 
America's  Gloucester  doubtless  seems  young 
to  the  mother  town,  which  is  of  British  origin 
and  was  built  before  the  Romans  crossed  from 
Gaul;  but,  despite  the  great  cathedral  in  the 
English  town  and  the  importance  in  the  cleri- 
cal world  of  the  prelates  and  church  dignita- 


GLOUCESTER  FISHER  FOLK        3 

ries  who  found  livings  there,  the  Yankee  town 
was  for  many  years  a  place  of  more  conse- 
quence in  the  world  of  trade  and  profit  than 
the  English  Gloucester  has  ever  been. 

Founded  as  a  rendezvous  where  fishermen 
could  cure  their  fish  and  fit  out  for  their  trips, 
in  the  old  days  Gloucester  in  Massachusetts 
had  fishing  and  whaling  fleets,  and  her  boats 
not  only  went  out  on  the  Banks  in  search  of 
cod,  but  to  the  far  limits  of  the  North  and 
South  Seas  they  sailed  to  bring  back  rich  car- 
goes of  whale  oil.  Her  fleets  ventured  into 
every  sea  from  which  profit  could  be  brought, 
and  boys  born  in  the  town  or  its  neighbors 
three  or  four  generations  agone  all  looked 
forward  to  a  half  dozen  cruises  as  a  matter 
of  course,  just  as  the  modern  boy  knows  that 
he  must  go  to  school  and  learn  to  read  and 
write.  It  was  a  rough  school  to  which  the 
youth  of  Gloucester  and  Cape  Ann  went,  but 
it  was  a  good  one.  They  learned  there  to  be 
brave  and  manly,  and  seafaring  broadened 
the  minds  of  men  who  had  they  stayed  at 


4  THE    SEA  EOVEES 

home  would  have  been  sadly  provincial  and 
narrow. 

Thus  the  history  of  Gloucester  centers  in 
the  fisheries.  The  yarns  most  often  told  at 
her  firesides  are  of  hairbreadth  escapes  at 
sea ;  her  legends  and  romances  have  a  flavor 
of  the  salt  waves  about  them;  her  rugged 
granite  shore  is  marked  with  the  scenes  of 
memorable  shipwrecks  and  storms;  her  town 
records  are  the  records  of  fleets  that  have 
gone  down  on  the  Banks,  of  pinks  and 
schooners  that  have  foundered  on  the  Georges, 
of  heroes  that  have  toiled  for  their  families 
and  fought  the  grim  battle  of  life  with  the 
fogs,  the  lightning  and  the  swooping  billows 
of  the  sou'wester,  and  with  the  ice,  the  hail 
and  the  short,  savage  cross  seas  and  terrible 
blast  of  the  raging  nor 'wester,  while  their 
children  have  cried  for  their  absent  fathers 
and  their  wives  have  lain  awake  through  long, 
dreary  nights,  burning  the  light  in  the  window 
and  straining  their  eyes  to  see  through  the 
gloom  of  the  storm  the  long  expected  vessel 


GLOUCESTER  FISHER  FOLK        5 

and  the  beloved  forms  that  perhaps  have  al- 
ready gone  down  at  sea. 

The  discovery  of  petroleum  struck  the 
Gloucester  whaling  industry  a  blow  from 
which  it  has  never  recovered,  but  the  town's 
fisheries  are  still  in  thriving  condition.  Four 
hundred  fishing  vessels  of  sufficient  conse- 
quence to  be  registered  hail  at  the  present 
time  from  Gloucester.  The  number  of  men 
employed  in  these  vessels,  the  majority  of 
which  are  as  speedy  and  well  built  as  pleasure 
yachts,  is  upward  of  5,000.  Many  of  the  fish- 
ermen are  from  the  British  provinces  and 
make  excellent  skippers  and  sailors,  while 
Sweden,  Norway  and  the  Azore  Islands  con- 
tribute a  large  number,  who  are,  as  a  rule, 
orderly,  capable  and  industrious.  They  fare 
well  as  compared  with  the  fishermen  of  other 
days  or  with  men  now  before  the  mast  of  the 
merchant  service,  and  fresh  pies,  biscuits, 
fowls,  eggs  and  like  delicacies  are  frequently 
seen  in  the  forecastle  of  a  Gloucester  banker. 

The  mackerel  fishermen  bound  for  the 
Georges  Banks  usually  leave  Gloucester  as 


6  THE   SEA  EOVERS 

early  as  the  last  of  February,  but  those  bound 
to  other  waters  with  the  cod,  halibut  and  had- 
dock fishermen  do  not  start  until  later.  The 
cod  are  caught  chiefly  on  the  Grand  Banks  of 
Newfoundland,  where  the  watch  lights  of  the 
Gloucester  men  twinkle  in  the  midnight  gloom 
in  company  with  those  of  the  French  fishers 
of  Miquelon  and  St.  Pierre.  Mackerel  are 
also  caught  in  the  Bay  of  St.  Lawrence,  off 
Cape  North,  Sidney  and  the  Magdalen  Isl- 
ands, where  the  fishermen  often  linger  until 
late  in  the  fall  and  are  sometimes  assailed  by 
heavy  gales  among  those  inhospitable  shores, 
without  sea  room,  on  a  lee  shore  and  no  safe 
port  to  run  to.  The  haddock  and  halibut  are 
oftener  caught  on  Brown's  Bank  and  within 
the  waters  of  New  England.  There  are  sev- 
eral modes  of  fitting  out  for  the  fisheries,  but 
the  one  most  often  followed  is  for  the  owner 
of  a  vessel  to  charter  her  to  ten  or  fifteen 
men  on  shares,  he  finding  the  stores  and  the 
nets  and  the  men  paying  for  the  provisions, 
hooks  and  lines  and  for  the  salt  necessary  to 
cure  their  proportion  of  the  fish. 


GLOUCESTER  FISHER  FOLK        7 

The  crew  of  a  banker  is  usually  composed 
of  a  dozen  to  eighteen  men,  including  the  skip- 
per, or  captain,  who  exercises  no  direct  con- 
trol over  the  others,  but  is  recognized  by  them 
as  the  principal  personage  on  board.  The 
average  Gloucester  fisherman  is  a  splendid 
though  rough  specimen  of  an  American.  You 
may  know  him  by  his  free-and-easy  manner 
and  his  swinging  gait.  His  costume  when  at 
work  is  a  red  or  blue  flannel  shirt  of  the  thick- 
est material,  admirably  adapted  to  absorb  and 
exclude  the  chilling  fogs  in  which  he  passes  so 
much  of  his  time,  a  heavy  tarpaulin  or  sou'- 
wester, generally  his  own  handiwork,  pilot- 
cloth  trousers  and  heavy  cowhide  boots  com- 
pleting his  attire.  His  face  bespeaks  a  se- 
rious but  cheerful  and  contented  spirit,  the 
result  of  a  philosophical,  half  careless  de- 
pendence upon  luck. 

Generous  and  fearless  in  his  address,  he  is 
of  simple  and  economical  habits  and,  like  most 
men  of  large  stature,  almost  peculiar  in  a 
placid  good  humor  which  seldom  leaves  him. 
Always  ready  for  any  fortune,  the  fisherman 


8  THE  SEA  ROVERS. 

tries  to  look  upon  the  bright  side  of  life  and 
draw  whatever  there  may  be  of  pleasure  from 
his  hazardous  calling.  But  among  the  bank- 
ers are  occasional  roystering,  devil-may-care 
fellows,  whose  never  ending  practical  jokes 
and  offhand  manner  serve  to  enliven  the  little 
vessel  and  dispel  the  tedium  of  the  voyage  to 
the  Banks. 

The  Grand  Bank  extends  north  and  south 
about  six  hundred  miles  and  east  and  west 
some  two  hundred,  lying  to  the  southeast  of 
Newfoundland.  Its  shape  cannot  be  easily 
defined,  but  the  form  denoted  by  the  sound- 
ings give  it  somewhat  the  resemblance  of  New 
Holland.  To  the  southward  it  narrows  to  a 
point,  presenting  abrupt  edges,  which  in  some 
places  drop  into  almost  fathomless  water. 
This,  as  well  as  the  adjacent  banks  of  St. 
Pierre,  Bank  Querau  and  the  Flemish  Cap, 
abound  with  fish  of  various  kinds,  which  at 
stated  seasons  adopt  this  as  a  shoaling  place 
or  grand  rendezvous.  The  most  numerous  of 
these  are  the  cod,  which  thrive  here  so  amaz- 
ingly that  the  unceasing  industry  of  many 


GLOUCESTEE  FISHER  FOLK        9 

hundreds  of  vessels  through  two  centuries  has 
in  no  way  diminished  their  numbers.  The 
fishery  is  not  confined  to  the  Banks,  but  ex- 
tends to  the  shores  and  harbors  of  Newfound- 
land, Nova  Scotia,  and  Cape  Breton.  The  fish 
affect  sandy  bottom.  In  winter  they  retire 
into  deep  water,  but  in  March  and  April  reap- 
pear and  fatten  rapidly  from  the  time  of  their 
arrival  on  the  Banks. 

Fishing  begins  as  soon  as  the  smacks  reach 
the  Banks.  In  other  years  all  cod  were  caught 
by  means  of  handlines,  and  some  fish  are  still 
taken  that  way.  The  most,  however,  are  now 
taken  by  trawls,  which  were  introduced  about 
1860  and  were  first  used  by  the  French.  A 
trawl  consists  of  a  line  some  3,000  feet  in 
length,  to  which  are  attached  short  ones  about 
a  yard  long,  on  each  of  which  is  a  hook.  The 
short  lines  are  placed  about  six  feet  apart,  so 
that  each  trawl  has  about  500  hooks.  Attached 
to  each  end  of  the  line  by  a  rope  is  a  buoy, 
sometimes  only  an  empty  powder  keg  or  a 
mackerel  kit  In  the  head  of  the  buoy  is  a 
pole  three  feet  long,  upon  which  is  a  small 


10  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

flag  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  owner  when 
in  search  of  it.  To  each  end  of  the  line  is 
fastened  a  small  anchor. 

The  hooks  are  baited  with  squid,  herring 
or  other  small  fish,  if  they  can  be  secured.  To 
bait  a  trawl  requires  from  an  hour  and  a  half 
to  two  hours.  When  it  is  ready  it  is  placed  in 
a  tub  made  of  a  half  barrel.  The  long  line  is 
coiled  up  in  the  center  and  the  bait  lies  next  to 
the  sides  of  the  tub.  One  man  uses  from  two 
to  six  trawls,  which  are  usually  visited  in  a 
dory  very  early  each  morning  and  once  or 
ftwice  during  the  day.  When  one  buoy  is 
reached  the  end  of  the  trawl  to  which  it  is 
attached  is  drawn  up,  the  hooks  examined  and 
the  fish  taken  off.  By  means  of  trawls  a  man 
may  catch  more  in  a  single  night  than  by  a 
week's  hard  work  with  hand  lines. 

Each  man  keeps  tally  of  his  fish  as  he  hauls 
them  in  to  the  dory  by  cutting  out  the  tongues 
— the  number  of  tongues  giving  the  account  of 
the  fish  taken.  As  soon  as  the  day's  catch 
has  been  taken  aboard  the  schooner  the  crew 
divide   themselves    into    throaters,    headers, 


GLOUCESTER  FISHER  FOLK       11 

splitters,  salters  and  packers,  and  the  opera- 
tion known  as  splitting  and  salting  begins. 
The  business  of  the  throater  is  to  cut  with  a 
sharp  pointed  knife  across  the  throat  of  the 
fish  to  the  bone  and  rip  open  the  bowels.  He 
then  passes  it  quickly  to  the  header,  who  with 
a  sudden  wrench  pulls  off  the  head  and  tears 
out  the  entrails,  passing  the  fish  instantly  to 
the  splitter.  At  the  same  time  separating  the 
liver,  he  throws  the  entrails  overboard.  The 
splitter  with  one  cut  lays  the  fish  open  from 
head  to  tail  and  with  another  cut  takes  out 
the  backbone.  After  separating  the  sounds, 
which  are  placed  with  the  tongues  and  packed 
in  barrels  as  a  great  delicacy,  the  backbone 
follows  the  entrails  overboard.  Such  is  the 
amazing  quickness  of  the  operations  of  head- 
ing and  splitting  that  a  good  workman  will 
often  decapitate  and  take  out  the  entrails  and 
backbone  of  six  fish  in  a  minute.  After  the 
catch  has  been  washed  off  with  buckets  of 
pure  water  from  the  ocean  the  fish  are  passed 
to  the  salters  and  thence  to  the  packers  in  the 
hold.    The  task  of  the  salters  is  a  most  im- 


12  THE    SEA   BOVERS 

portant  one,  as  the  value  of  the  voyage  de- 
pends upon  their  care  and  judgment.  They 
take  the  fish  one  by  one,  spread  them,  back 
uppermost,  in  layers,  distributing  a  proper 
quantity  of  salt  between  each.  Packing  in 
bulk,  or  "kench,"  as  the  fishermen  term  it,  is 
intrusted  only  to  the  most  experienced  hands. 

When  the  day's  catch  has  been  cared  for  in 
the  manner  just  described  the  watch  is  set 
and  all  but  two  men  turn  in.  These  watches 
are  regulated  in  such  a  manner  that  every 
man  is  on  deck  his  part  of  the  night  hours. 
Breakfast  is  served  at  3  o  'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  off  the  men  go  again  to  their  trawls. 
If  it  is  foggy  dinner  is  announced  by  the  re- 
port of  a  ten-pound  gun  from  the  schooner. 
It  is  then  about  10  o'clock.  After  dinner  the 
fishers  are  away  again  and  back  about  4,  when 
the  fish  which  have  been  caught  are  split  and 
salted  as  on  the  previous  day.  The  only  thing 
that  relieves  the  monotony  on  board  a  Glou- 
cester fishing  smack  is  stormy  weather  or  the 
coming  of  Sunday.    This  day  is  kept  holy. 

Leaving  the  Grand  Banks,  let  us  cross  over 


GLOUCESTER  FISHER  FOLK       13 

to  the  Georges  Banks,  where  in  the  months  of 
spring  and  summer  we  shall  find  Gloucester 
hand-liners,  with  crews  of  from  eight  to  ten 
men  fishing  for  mackerel.  Every  man  is  at 
the  rail,  as  he  fishes  from  the  deck  of  the  ves- 
sel. The  tide  runs  so  strong  that  nine-pound 
leads  are  necessary.  Attached  to  each  lead 
is  a  horse,  a  slingding,  or  spreader,  and  a  pair 
of  large  hooks.  Sometimes  when  fishing  in 
thirty  fathoms  of  water  the  great  strength  of 
the  tide  forces  the  men  to  pay  out  from  sixty 
to  ninety  fathoms  of  line  before  the  lead 
touches  bottom.  In  front  of  each  man,  driven 
into  the  rail,  is  a  wooden  pin.  This  is  termed 
the  soldier,  and  it  has  an  important  duty. 
Every  inch  of  the  line  is  hauled  across  it. 
Were  it  not  for  these  rail  pins  the  lines  would 
continually  be  fouled  with  one  another. 

When  a  smack's  crew  chance  upon  a  fresh 
school  of  mackerel  their  hooks  have  only  to 
touch  the  water  to  be  seized  and  swallowed. 
No  time  is  lost  in  unhooking,  but  each  fisher- 
man hauls  as  fast  as  his  hands  can  move 
until  the  fish  appears  in  sight,  when  with  one 


14  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

motion  he  is  swung  quickly  over  the  rail  into 
a  barrel  or  heap  and  so  dexterously  that  the 
hook  disengages  itself.  When  the  fish  con- 
tinue plentiful  the  scene  is  a  most  exciting 
one.  The  long,  lithe  bodies  of  the  fishermen 
eagerly  bending  over  their  work,  the  quick, 
nervous  twitching  at  the  line,  followed  by  the 
steady  strain,  the  rapid  hand-over-hand  haul 
that  brings  the  prize  to  the  surface,  the  easy 
swing  with  which  he  describes  a  circle  in  the 
air  as  the  victor  slaps  him  into  his  barrel  and 
the  flapping  of  the  captives  about  deck,  min- 
gling with  the  merry  laughter  of  the  excited 
crew,  make  it  a  sport  to  which  the  efforts  of 
the  trout  angler  or  the  fowler  with  his  double- 
barreled  shotgun  are  but  puny  and  insignifi- 
cant in  comparison. 

Time  was  when  the  use  of  the  hook  and  line 
made  mackerel  catching  the  very  poetry  of 
fishing,  but  in  recent  years  the  purse  seine 
has  come  into  general  use.  Mackerel  seining, 
however,  is  an  interesting  process.  A  large 
seine  is  two  hundred  and  fifty  fathoms  in 
length  and  about  fifteen  or  twenty  fathoms 


GLOUCESTER  FISHER  FOLK      15 

deep.  The  school  is  sighted  from  the  mast- 
head and  the  direction  in  which  the  fish  are 
swimming  is  noted.  A  boat  is  manned  and 
sets  out  to  head  off  the  school.  Two  men  in 
a  dory  hold  one  end  of  the  purse  line  which 
runs  through  rings  at  the  bottom  of  the  seine. 
A  circle  is  described  by  the  boat,  the  seine 
being  thrown  out  at  the  same  time.  When 
the  boat  meets  the  dory  the  other  end  of  the 
line  is  taken  into  the  boat.  Then  the  seines 
are  drawn  together,  forming  a  large  bag.  The 
fish  are  inside  and  it  is  necessary  to  gather  as 
much  of  the  net  into  the  boat  as  possible.  The 
fish  are  then  in  what  is  termed  the  bunt.  This 
is  the  strongest  part  of  the  seine.  The  vessel 
sails  up  close  to  the  boat,  picks  up  the  outside 
corks  and  the  bailing  begins,  a  dip  net  that 
will  hold  a  barrel  being  used  for  this  purpose, 
after  which  the  fish  are  cleaned,  salted  and 
stowed  in  the  hold.  Vessels  have  been  known 
to  take  300  barrels  in  one  haul,  but  the  aver- 
age catch  nowadays  is  about  twenty-five 
barrels. 
When  the  mackerel  fleet  fished  with  hand 


16  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

lines  the  pursuit  of  this  industry  was  exciting 
in  the  extreme.  Often  when  massed  together 
in  great  fleets  the  vessels  carried  away  their 
mainbooms,  bowsprits,  jibbooms  and  sails  by 
collision  in  what  was  really  a  hand-to-hand 
encounter  and  when  the  maneuver  of  lee-bow- 
ing was  the  order  of  the  day.  A  fleet 
of  sixty  odd  sail  descry  a  schooner  whose  crew 
are  heaving  and  pulling  their  lines.  The 
glistening  scales  of  the  fish  sparkle  in  the  sun- 
light. The  fleet  as  one  vessel  turns  quickly 
on  its  heel  and  there  is  a  neck-and-neck  race 
for  the  school.  The  first  that  arrives  rounds 
to  under  the  lee  of  the  fortunate  craft,  the 
crew  heaving  the  toll  bait  with  lavish  hands. 
The  new  arrival  now  shakes  up  into  the 
wind  close  under  the  lee  bow  of  the  fish- 
catching  vessel.  The  fish  forsake  the  latter 
and  fly  at  the  lines  of  the  newcomer.  Now 
comes  up  the  balance  of  the  fleet,  and  each 
vessel  on  its  arrival  performs  the  same 
maneuver  and  lee-bows  its  predecessor. 
Those  to  windward,  forsaken  by  the  fish,  push 
their  way  through  their  neighbors,  fill  away 


GLOUCESTER  FISHER  FOLK      17 

and  round  to  under  the  bows  of  those  to  lee- 
ward. The  hoarse  bawling  of  the  skippers  to 
their  crews,  the  imprecations  of  those  who 
have  been  run  down  and  left  disabled,  rend 
the  air,  while  the  crews,  setting  and  lowering 
sail  and  hauling  fish,  freely  exchange  with 
■^each  other  language  not  to  be  found  in  any 
current  religious  work.  In  these  latter  days, 
however,  seines,  as  before  stated,  have  taken 
the  place  of  line,  and  lee-bowing,  with  its 
attendant  excitement  and  danger,  has  passed 
to  -the  limbo  of  forgotten  things. 

Fishing  smacks  bound  for  the  Georges, 
the  Western,  or  Banks  of  Newfoundland  may 
be  gone  three  or  four  weeks,  bringing  their 
fish  to  market  on  ice,  or  they  may  be  absent 
from  four  to  six  months,  dressing  and  salting 
their  fish  on  board.  But,  be  the  voyage  long 
or  short,  it  is  a  joyous  and  moving  spectacle 
to  see  a  schooner  come  into  Gloucester  from 
the  Banks  loaded  to  the  scuppers  and  packed 
to  the  beams  with  codfish.  The  wharf  is  lined 
with  eager  spectators  as  she  glides  up  to  her 
dock  with  a  leading  wind.    The  foresail  comes 


18  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

in  and  the  mainsail  is  lowered  and  handed  by 
a  crew  weatherbeaten  and  clumsily  limber  in 
heavy  Cape  Cod  seaboots,  souVesters  and 
oiljackets.  Then  the  jib  downhanl  is  manned 
and  a  number  of  boys,  longing  for  the  day 
when  they  can  go  to  the  Banks,  catch  the 
hawsers  and  make  her  fast  to  the  pier  fore 
and  aft. 

Amidst  a  storm  of  questions  asked  and  an- 
swered on  both  sides,  the  crew  range  them- 
selves on  board  and  on  shore  with  one-tined 
pitchforks  and  proceed  to  unload  with  the 
rapidity  and  regularity  of  machinery.  The 
men  in  the  hold  heave  the  fish  on  deck,  whence 
they  are  tossed  to  the  wharf.  Another  turn 
of  the  pitchfork  lands  them  under  the  knife, 
their  heads  and  tails  come  off  and  they  are 
split  open  in  a  second  and  are  then  salted  and 
spread  upon  flakes  to  dry.  These  flakes  are 
frames  covered  with  triangular  slats  and  are 
about  seven  feet  wide  and  raised  three  feet 
above  the  ground.  At  Gloucester  they  may 
be  seen  not  only  upon  the  wharves,  but  also 
in  all  vacant  places  between  the  houses  and 


GLOUCESTER  FISHER  FOLK       19 

even  in  the  front  dooryards,  so  that  at  every 
turn  the  smell  of  codfish  regales  the  passerby. 
But  there  is  a  sadder,  sterner  side  to  the 
life  of  the  Gloucester  fishermen  than  which  I 
have  been  describing.  Danger  is  their  con- 
stant, death  their  familiar,  companion,  and 
each  season  has  its  sorrowful  story  of  storm, 
wreck  and  disaster.  Truth  to  tell,  the  perils 
of  the  trawler  are  even  greater  than  those  of 
the  soldier  in  battle.  He  is  often  four  or  five 
miles  from  his  vessel,  when  suddenly  the 
thick  fog  closes  in  upon  him  and  he  is  lost, 
perhaps  to  row  for  days  in  hopeless  search, 
without  food,  drink  or  compass.  He  may  die 
of  exhaustion  or  perhaps  be  picked  up  at 
length  by  a  passing  vessel  and  taken  to  some 
distant  port.  More  than  thirty  lives  were  lost 
in  this  way  in  the  summer  of  1894.  Although 
horns  are  blown  in  warning,  a  whole  crew  is 
sometimes  sunk  in  an  instant  by  some  steamer 
on  its  way  across  the  ocean.  Of  all  the  men 
lost  on  the  Banks  during  the  last  twenty  years 
more  than  two-thirds  have  been  out  in  dories 
attending  trawls. 


20  THE   SEA  EOVERS 

Fierce,  too,  are  the  storms  which  sweep  the 
Banks  in  winter.  Then  the  wind  is  bitter 
cold,  deck  and  mast  and  sails  are  clad  in  ice, 
and  many  a  crew  are  never  heard  of  more. 
The  Georges  in  fair  weather  is  not  dangerous 
fishing  ground,  but  in  a  gale  it  defies  both  skill 
and  strength.  The  shallow  water  is  churned 
into  rolling  mountain  waves  which  almost 
sweep  the  ocean  bed.  At  such  times  the  125- 
ton  fishing  vessels,  which  usually  anchor  close 
together  when  fishing,  are  at  the  mercy  of  the 
elements.  It  is  impossible  for  the  anchors  to 
get  a  firm  grip  and  they  are  sometimes 
dragged  for  miles.  This,  in  fact,  is  the  great- 
est danger  of  the  business.  Not  infrequently 
in  a  heavy  gale  two  or  three  vessels  will  drift 
together,  their  cables  become  tangled  until 
they  are  unmanageable  and  in  short  order  ves- 
sels and  crew  will  be  engulfed.  Some  years, 
ago  thirty  schooners,  with  150  sailors  aboard, 
were  lost  in  this  manner  in  a  single  gale  on 
the  Georges. 

Since  1830  nearly  700  fishing  vessels  sailing 
from  Gloucester  have  been  lost  and  upward 


GLOUCESTER  FISHEE  FOLK      21 

of  2,700  men  have  perished.  The  winter  of 
1882  was  one  long  to  be  remembered  in  Glou- 
cester, for  in  less  than  two  months  more  than 
a  hundred  fishermen  were  lost  on  the  Banks. 
One  of  these  was  Angus  McCloud,  than  whom 
no  braver  man  ever  found  a  grave  at  the 
ocean 's  bottom.  Three  years  before  he  had 
been  on  the  Banks  in  the  same  vessel  with  his 
brothers,  Malcolm  and  John  McCloud.  Among 
their  shipmates  were  the  McDonalds — Will- 
iam, Donald,  John  and  Neal.  Their  vessel 
was  in  the  gale  of  1879  on  the  Banks — a  gale 
the  like  of  which  had  rarely  before  been  ex- 
perienced by  the  fleet.  Thrown  over  on  its 
beam  ends,  the  little  bark  still  held  to  its 
anchor  and  finally  rode  out  the  gale  with  her 
crew  lashed  in  the  rigging.  Nearby  was  an- 
other vessel  in  the  same  position,  and  others 
were  being  tossed  about  to  windward  and  to 
leeward.  Two  poor  fellows,  washed  from  one 
of  the  former,  were  swept  between  the  two 
vessels  that  had  been  knocked  down  and  were 
not  one  hundred  feet  from  either.  The  crews 
of  these  vessels,  clinging  to  the  icy  rigging, 


22  THE    SEA   KOVERS 

looked  anxiously  from  one  to  another  to  see  if 
any  one  was  bold  enough  to  attempt  a  rescue. 
Angus  McCloud  cast  off  the  lashings  which 
bound  him,  seized  a  lanyard,  made  it  fast 
about  his  waist  and  stood  for  a  moment  poised 
on  the  shroud  lashings.  Then  he  sprang  boldly 
into  an  advancing  wave  and  was  carried  to- 
ward one  of  the  struggling  men.  Soon  he  had 
him  by  his  oilskin  coat  and  soon  the  crew  were 
hauling  them  in.  Angus  assisted  in  the  rescue 
of  another  comrade  before  the  gale  was  spent 
and  his  vessel  righted. 

Time  and  again  other  members  of  the 
Gloucester  fishing  fleet  have  proved  them- 
selves worthy  comrades  of  Angus  McCloud. 
Several  years  ago  Captain  Mark  Lane,  now 
dead,  but  then  skipper  of  the  schooner  Edwin, 
while  homeward  bound  from  the  Banks  dis- 
covered two  shipwrecked  men  on  a  half-sub- 
merged rock  near  the  Fox  Islands,  on  the 
Maine  coast.  It  was  midwinter  and  a  heavy 
gale  was  blowing,  but  Captain  Lane  put  his 
wheel  hard  down,  brought  his  vessel  up  into 
the  wind,  hove  to  under  a  close-reefed  foresail 


GLOUCESTER  FISHER  FOLK       23 

and  told  his  men  they  must  rescue  the  sailors 
on  the  rock.  It  was  a  perilous  undertaking 
and,  as  there  appeared  to  be  no  chance  of  a 
boat  living  in  the  sea  then  running,  the  crew 
protested.  "Then  I'll  go  myself/ '  said  the 
skipper.  "Stand  by,  there,  lads,  to  lower 
away  a  boat  from  the  davits ! ' '  But  the  crew 
relented  when  they  saw  that  their  captain 
was  determined  and  two  stout  fellows  drove 
a  dory  over  the  huge  waves  to  the  rock.  The 
men  were  saved,  and  a  certificate  of  the  Hu- 
mane Society  of  Massachusetts,  still  treas- 
ured by  Captain  Lane's  family,  attests  that  a 
careful  examination  into  his  conduct  had 
proved  him  worthy  the  recognition  of  that  ad- 
mirable body. 

The  experience  of  the  Gloucester  fishermen 
in  the  winter  of  1882  was  by  no  means  an  unu- 
sual one.  In  the  last  twenty  years  over  a 
thousand  of  them  have  laid  their  bones  on  the 
drifting  sands  of  the  fishing  banks.  During 
a  hurricane  in  1876  on  the  Banks  almost  an 
entire  fleet  was  disabled  or  lost  and  200  men 
were  drowned.     The  wind,  which  had  been 


24  THE    SEA  EOVEES 

blowing  a  gale  from  the  southeast,  veered  sud- 
denly to  west-northwest.  Skipper  Collins  of 
the  schooner  Howard,  one  of  the  vessels  that 
escaped,  had  a  remarkable  experience.  His 
vessel  was  "hawsed"  up  by  the  current,  which 
set  strongly  to  the  southward  and  nearly  at 
right  angles  to  the  hurricane.  He  had  just 
time  to  tie  up  the  clew  of  his  riding  sail — a 
sort  of  storm  trysail — and  lash  the  bottom 
hoops  together,  thus  making  a  "bag  reef," 
when  the  hurricane  burst  with  terrific  force 
upon  the  little  vessel.  A  heavy  sea  boarded 
the  schooner  and  carried  off  one  of  the  sailors. 
Later  on,  while  standing  on  the  bit  head  of  the 
fife  rail  and  grasping  the  riding-sail  halyards 
ready  to  let  it  run  if  necessary,  a  ball  of  light- 
ning burst  between  the  masts  and  knocked  the 
captain  insensible  to  the  deck,  whence  he  was 
dragged  below  by  his  crew.  The  lightning 
severely  burned  his  right  arm  and  leg  and 
disappeared  through  his  boots. 

During  the  same  storm  the  schooner  Burn- 
ham  was  struck  so  suddenly  and  with  such 
violence  by  a  sea  as  to  turn  her  bottom  up 


GLOUCESTER  FISHER  FOLK      25 

and  throw  her  skipper,  James  Nickerson,  and 
his  crew,  who  were  below,  upon  the  ceiling, 
where  they  lay  sprawling  for  a  moment  until 
the  vessel  righted  herself.  There  was  one 
man  on  deck  when  she  was  struck,  Hector  Mc- 
Isaac.  He  saw  the  wave  coming  and  leapt  into 
the  shrouds.  With  his  legs  locked  in  the  rat- 
lines he  went  down  into  the  foaming  sea,  and 
when  the  crew  came  on  deck  there  was  Hector 
Mclsaac  still  clinging  to  the  shrouds.  Captain 
Nickerson  was  subsequently  lost  in  a  dory 
from  the  Bellerophon  on  the  Banks,  and  Hec- 
tor Mclsaac  went  down  in  the  Nathaniel  Web- 
ster in  1881,  together  with  his  brother. 

Everybody  who  lives  in  Gloucester  is  inter- 
ested in  the  fishing  industry,  and  so  it  falls 
out  that  the  city's  life  is  about  equally  made 
up  of  intervals  of  joy  and  sorrow.  When 
summer  opens  the  general  tone  of  public  feel- 
ing is  bright  and  hopeful,  but  at  the  end  of 
the  season,  as  the  fishers  come  in,  some  with 
flags  at  half-mast,  others  bearing  fateful  news, 
the  whole  town  is  depressed.  All  the  resi- 
dents show  a  concern  in  the  sailors  who  are 


26  THE    SEA   EOVEES 

lost  and  in  the  welfare  of  their  families.  Even 
citizens  of  fortune  who  suffer  no  personal  be- 
reavement have  been  brought  closely  into 
touch  with  the  poor  fishing  families  through 
repeated  tragedies  at  sea.  The  scenes  in  the 
fishing  quarters  during  the  late  fall  and  win- 
ter months  when  news  of  death  is  brought 
by  almost  every  returning  boat  are  most  pa- 
thetic. Sometimes  the  news  comes  with  a 
shock,  at  others  wives  and  children  wait  for 
weeks  in  anxiety  and  never  know  the  details 
of  the  fate  of  their  loved  ones. 

The  immediate  wants  of  the  families  of  lost 
sailors  are  looked  after  by  the  Gloucester  Be- 
lief Association.  Almost  everybody  in  the 
town  subscribes  to  this,  rich  and  poor  alike, 
as  well  as  the  sailors  living  along  the  shore 
and  in  Nova  Scotia,  all  of  whom  sail  in  the 
Gloucester  vessels.  When  there  is  a  disaster 
the  nearest  relatives  of  the  men  lost  receive 
a  sum  proportionate  to  the  amount  which  the 
subscribers  have  paid  into  the  association.  In 
addition,  voluntary  subscriptions  are  made  by 
churches  and  societies  in  Gloucester  and  Bos- 


GLOUCESTER  FISHEE  FOLK       27 

ton  once  a  year  and  distributed  at  the  time  of 
the  annual  memorial  service  in  February. 

This  service  held  in  the  city  hall  of  Glou- 
cester is  unique  in  its  way.  Everybody  in  the 
city  takes  an  interest  in  it  and,  with  shops 
closed  and  business  suspended,  the  day  is  one 
of  general  mourning.  But  neither  death  nor 
its  solemn  reminders  can  rob  the  boy  born  and 
bred  in  Gloucester  of  hunger  for  the  time 
when  he,  too,  may  hazard  life  and  fortune  on 
the  distant  fishing  grounds ;  and  gray  Mother 
Ocean,  kindly  and  cruel  by  turns,  claims  him 
for  her  own,  singing  to-day  of  his  hardihood 
and  to-morrow — chanting  his  requiem. 


CHAPTER  II 


AN    OCEAN    FLYER'S    CREW 


Work  on  an  ocean  steamship  never  ends,  for 
no  sooner  does  she  reach  her  moorings  in  New 
York,  Liverpool  or  Hamburg  than  prepara- 
tions begin  for  the  next  voyage.  Her  decks 
are  holystoned,  sprinkled  with  sand  and  made 
beautifully  clean ;  the  outside  of  her  hull,  from 
deck  to  water  line,  is  repainted  and,  if  it  be 
the  end  of  a  round  trip  or  voyage,  all  the 
exterior  paint  work  receives  a  new  coat,  while 
her  sanitary  and  plumbing  arrangements,  her 
smokestacks,  woodwork,  spars  and  rigging, 
are  all  carefully  examined  and  overhauled. 
All  this  is  done  by  the  sailors  under  the  direc- 
tion of  the  boatswain,  who  reports  each  day  to 
the  officer  on  duty  and  receives  instruction  as 
to  the  work  to  be  performed. 


AN  OCEAN  FLYER 'S  GREW        29 

Meanwhile  an  overhauling  equally  minute 
and  thorough  is  going  on  in  the  engineer's 
department,  which  includes  not  only  the  en- 
gines and  boilers,  but  also  the  electric-lighting 
plant  of  the  ship.  The  work  of  this  depart- 
ment, however,  is  so  arduous  while  at  sea  that 
officers  and  men  receive  liberty  for  the  entire 
time  the  ship  remains  in  port,  their  places 
being  taken  by  a  special  shore  force  which  re- 
mains aboard  until  sailing  day.  One  boiler  is 
left  untouched  to  supply  power  for  the  en- 
gines that  work  the  electric  and  refrigerating 
apparatus,  the  pumps  and  the  machinery  used 
in  shipping  cargo,  but  all  the  others  as  soon 
as  they  have  cooled  are  entered,  examined 
and,  if  need  be,  repaired.  Each  tube,  com- 
bustion chamber  and  furnace  receives  careful 
attention;  cylinders,  pistons,  crankpins  and 
crossheads  are  gone  over  one  by  one,  while 
the  engines  are  generally  overhauled  and  all 
the  arrangements  of  the  fireroom  inspected. 
Nor  is  the  steward's  department  less  busy 
while  in  port.  All  the  bed  and  table  linen 
used  during  the  voyage,  many  thousands  of 


30  THE    SEA   EOVERS 

pieces,  is  collected  and  sent  to  the  company's 
laundry,  after  which  all  the  staterooms  are 
cleaned  and  put  in  order  and  the  fresh  supply 
of  linen  made  ready  for  the  coming  voyage. 

During  a  steamship 's  stay  in  port  the  three 
chief  divisions,  sailing,  engineer's  and  stew- 
ard's, are  under  the  jurisdiction  of  shore  offi- 
cials whose  officers  are  on  the  deck.  The  sail- 
ing department  is  responsible  to  the  marine 
superintendent,  the  engineer's  to  the  super- 
intending engineer  and  the  steward's  to  the 
port  steward.  Thus  the  vessel  while  in  port 
has  no  direct  communication  with  the  com- 
pany's office,  the  dock  superintendents  acting 
as  intermediaries.  "When  stores  are  sent  to 
the  ship  they  are  addressed  to  the  department 
for  which  they  are  intended.  The  port  stew- 
ard controls  the  direct  purchasing  of  pro- 
visions and  is  supposed  to  buy  in  the  cheapest 
and  best  market.  The  marine  superintendent 
and  superintending  engineer  furnish  the  other 
materials  required.  Should  provisions  be 
found  unsatisfactory  when  received  the  chief 
steward  sends  them  back,  and  in  such  action 


AN  OCEAN  FLYER 'S  CREW        31 

is  always  upheld  by  the  port  steward.  The 
cargo  is  in  charge  of  the  sailing  department 
and  is  received  and  stowed  under  the  direc- 
tion of  a  boss  stevedore  selected  by  the  dock 
superintendent. 

Even  the  fleetest  ocean  steamships  carry 
considerable  cargoes,  and  to  those  unfamiliar 
with  it  the  process  of  loading  a  vessel  is  a 
sight  full  of  interest.  On  the  wharf  assorted 
merchandise  by  the  carload  is  being  lifted 
from  vans  and  piled  near  the  ship,  and  teams 
by  the  score  are  adding  their  quota  to  the 
immense  mass,  while  on  the  water  side  light- 
ers laden  with  more  merchandise  are  either 
fastened  to  the  vessel's  side  or  anchored  close 
at  hand  waiting  to  hoist  their  contents  aboard. 
Engines  are  puffing,  ropes  are  tugging  and 
derricks  lifting  heavy  freight  of  every  kind 
to  the  ship 's  deck,  the  orders  of  the  stevedore 
and  the  answers  of  his  men  mingling  with  the 
general  din.  Large  vessels  have  four  or  five 
holds  and  much  skill  is  required  to  properly 
stow  the  cargo  in  them,  grain,  from  its  com- 
pact and  dead  weight,  being  mostly  reserved 


32  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

for  the  center  of  the  vessel,  while  cured  pro- 
visions are  packed  as  far  forward  and  aft  as 
possible  for  their  better  preservation  from 
the  heat  of  the  ship's  fires.  In  many  vessels 
carrying  passengers  as  well  as  freight  the 
heaviest  weight  is  stowed  in  the  lowest  hold; 
this  is  to  steady  the  ship  and  is  called  in  the 
argot  of  the  stevedore  "stiffening"  the  ship. 
It  requires  about  1,500  tons  to  " stiffen' '  an 
ocean  steamship  of  the  largest  size,  and  when 
this  is  done  the  hold  is  battened  down  and 
work  begun  on  the  next. 

An  important  feature  in  the  loading  of  a 
steamship  is  her  coal.  It  is  customary  to  take 
as  high  as  200  tons  of  a  surplus  over  the  ac- 
tual needs  of  the  voyage,  and  the  bunkers  of 
the  vessel  are  in  charge  of  a  special  gang  of 
men.  Some  vessels  load  their  coal  over  all, 
but  a  majority  receive  it  through  openings  at 
the  sides.  Large  V-shaped  pockets,  running 
direct  to  the  bunkers,  are  let  down  on  each 
side  and  around  them  are  built  stagings  on 
which  a  couple  of  men  are  stationed  to  dump 
the  coal  from  huge  buckets  hoisted  by  engines 


AN  OCEAN  FLYER 'S  CREW        33 

from  lighters.  On  the  wharf  side  the  coal  is 
wheeled  in  barrows  up  a  shelving  gangway 
and  turned  into  the  bunkers  direct.  To  load  a 
great  vessel  requires  the  services  for  several 
days  of  125  men,  including  a  boss  stevedore 
and  a  couple  of  foremen  and  with  all  the 
appliances  of  steam  and  gearing  to  assist 
their  operations.  The  force  is  divided  into 
half  a  dozen  or  more  gangs,  each  having  its 
head,  who  is  in  communication  with  the  boss 
stevedore.  As  the  work  is  intermittent  the 
men  are  paid  by  the  hour,  and  there  is  a 
keeper  who  does  nothing  else  but  take  down 
the  time  each  one  is  employed.  Certain  gangs 
of  longshoremen  stick  to  certain  lines,  and 
many  of  them  have  worked  nearly  all  their 
lives  for  the  same  company.  When  the  load- 
ing of  a  ship  is  completed  a  detailed  inspec- 
tion of  cargo  is  made  by  one  of  the  officers, 
and  for  this  reason  the  boss  stevedore  is  al- 
ways careful  to  prevent  slovenly  methods  on 
the  part  of  his  men,  being  aware  that  in  the 
end  he  will  be  the  one  held  responsible  for 
haste  or  error. 


34  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

While  the  cargo  is  being  received  and 
loaded  stores  for  the  coming  voyage  are  also 
being  taken  aboard.  The  supplies  for  the 
physical  comfort  and  necessities  of  1,500  per- 
sons on  a  ship  can  be  measured  only  by  the 
ton,  30,000  pounds  of  beef,  for  instance,  being 
often  used  on  a  single  voyage.  About  150 
tons  of  water  are  required  for  cooking  and 
drinking,  an  additional  fifty  tons  being  made 
daily  on  board  by  the  evaporators  from  sea 
water  and  used  for  cleaning  purposes.  When 
it  comes  to  food  and  drink  the  ingenuity  of  the 
port  and  ship's  stewards  is  put  fairly  to  the 
test.  A  day  or  two  before  the  ship  leaves 
port  the  number  of  passengers  who  will  prob- 
ably sail  on  it  is  figured  up  and  the  ship's 
steward  makes  up  and  hands  to  the  port  stew- 
ard a  tabulated  list  of  the  supplies  needed  for 
the  trip,  nearly  1,000  articles  being  named  in 
the  requisition,  which  includes  food  and  drink 
in  every  conceivable  form.  The  port  steward 
sends  his  orders  to  the  firms  that  supply  the 
line  and  arranges  for  the  delivery  of  the 
goods  at  certain  hours,  care  being  taken  that 


AN  OCEAN  FLYEE  'S  CREW        35 

they  shall  arrive  when  the  pier  is  not  blocked 
with  wagons  unloading  freight.  The  meats 
come  at  a  certain  hour,  the  groceries  at  an- 
other and  the  spices  and  so  on  at  another, 
everything  being  weighed  on  scales  at  the  pier 
and  counted  as  it  goes  on  board. 

The  variety  of  the  food  supplies  required 
for  one  of  these  huge  floating  hotels  is  bewil- 
dering. For  example,  no  less  than  fifteen 
kinds  of  cheese  are  used,  while  fish  in  fully  a 
hundred  grades  and  forms  is  stowed  away. 
In  the  list  of  fruits,  fresh,  dried  and  canned, 
there  are  at  least  125  varieties,  and  the  same 
is  true  of  vegetables.  The  list  of  supplies, 
moreover,  must  be  scanned  by  the  steward 
again  and  again,  for  it  will  not  do  to  overlook 
a  single  article  that  may  be  needed.  Here  is 
part  of  what  is  required  in  the  way  of  sup- 
plies when  a  ship  like  the  Carmania  is 
crowded:  25,000  to  30,000  pounds  of  beef, 
5,000  pounds  of  mutton,  2,600  pounds  of  veal, 
pork  and  corned  beef;  8,000  pounds  of  sau- 
sage, tripe,  calves'  head,  calves'  feet,  sweet- 
breads and  kidneys;  2,000  pounds  of  fresh 


36  THE    SEA   KOVERS 

fish,  10,000  clams  and  oysters,  250  tins  of  pre- 
served fruit,  200  tins  of  jam  and  marmalade, 
100  large  bottles  of  pickles  and  sauces,  500 
pounds  of  coffee,  250  pounds  of  tea,  250 
pounds  of  potted  fish,  300  fresh  lobsters,  3,000 
pounds  of  moist  sugar,  600  pounds  of  lump 
sugar,  500  quarts  of  ice  cream,  3,000  pounds 
of  butter  of  various  grades,  16  tons  of 
potatoes,  5  tons  of  other  vegetables,  15,000 
eggs,  1,000  chickens  and  ducks,  and  2,000 
birds  of  different  kinds.  Lard  by  the  ton  is 
used  and  often  as  many  as  140  barrels  of  flour 
are  consumed. 

The  departure  of  an  ocean  liner  from  port 
is  a  critical  moment  for  each  member  of  the 
ship's  company.  All  leaves  of  absence  ex- 
pire twenty-four  hours  before  the  time  for 
sailing,  and  this  precaution  makes  it  certain 
that  every  man  shall  be  at  his  post.  At  8 
o'clock  on  the  morning  of  leaving  the  sea- 
watches  are  formally  set.  The  lower  fires  in 
the  many-lunged  furnaces  have  been  started 
at  10  o  'clock  on  the  previous  night ;  six  hours 
later  the  top  fires  are  lighted,  and  at  6  a.  m. 


AN  OCEAN  FLYER 'S  CREW        37 

the  operation  of  getting  up  steam  begins,  it 
being  always  necessary  to  have  a  full  pres- 
sure of  steam  at  least  one  hour  before  sailing 
time.  As  the  moment  of  departure  draws 
nearer,  an  air  of  suppressed  excitement  per- 
vades the  waiting  throng,  but  there  is  no  con- 
fusion among  those  charged  with  the  ship's 
conduct  and  safety.  Each  officer  is  at  his 
post,  and  knows  his  duty.  The  chief  officer 
is  stationed  on  the  forward  deck  in  full  view 
of  the  captain  on  the  bridge,  where  the  latter 
with  a  wave  of  his  hand  indicates  just  what 
he  wants  done.  The  senior  and  junior  second 
officers  are  on  the  after  deck;  the  extra  sec- 
ond with  the  captain  on  the  bridge,  and  the 
third  and  fourth  officers  at  the  forward  and 
after  gangways. 

Meanwhile,  as  the  minutes  wax  and  wane, 
winches  chatter  noisily ;  windlasses  clink  mu- 
sically; capstans  rattle  with  slacking  cables; 
and  the  shrill  chanty  songs  of  the  docking 
gang  working  the  warps,  answer  the  cheery 
1  *  Yo-heave-oho ' 9  of  the  sailors  on  the  deck* 
On  the  bridge  with  the  silent  yet  impatient 


38  THE    SEA   ROVEBS 

captain  lingers  a  representative  of  the  com- 
pany. By  and  by,  after  the  final  instructions 
have  been  given,  this  person  departs,  and  as 
he  goes  over  the  side  the  captain,  saluting  him 
with  a  wave  of  the  hand,  gives  a  quiet  order 
to  the  first  officer.  The  wheel  is  shifted,  the 
capstan  reels  noisily,  and  link  by  link  the 
chain  comes  home.  At  last,  after  a  vicious 
tug  or  two  on  the  cable,  the  ground  is  broken, 
and,  dripping  with  cleansing  water  from  the 
hose,  the  anchor,  ring  and  stock,  appears 
above  the  foam-streams  rippling  at  the  bow. 
When  the  catfall  is  hooked,  the  ship  swings 
easily  around  the  jutting  pier,  the  engines  in- 
crease their  speed,  the  ensign  dips  in  answer 
to  salutes,  and  a  long  blast  from  the  whistle 
claims  the  right  of  the  channel.  Slowly  and 
carefully  she  picks  her  way  through  the  ship- 
ping that  crowds  the  harbor,  drops  her  pilot 
and  heads  for  the  open.  The  voyage  has 
begun. 

With  the  dropping  of  the  pilot,  sea  routine 
is  promptly  taken  up,  and  thereafter  on  the 
shoulders  of  the  commander  rests  the  preser- 


AN  OCEAN  FLYER 'S  CREW        39 

vation  of  the  ship  and  the  safety  of  the  pas- 
sengers and  crew.  Every  captain  of  an  At- 
lantic liner  embodies  in  his  person  a  shining 
example  of  the  law  of  the  survival  of  the 
fittest,  for  there  is  no  short  cut  to  the  bridge, 
and  none  but  a  master  seaman  ever  reaches 
it.  The  man  who  would  be  captain  cannot 
crawl  through  the  cabin  window.  He  must 
fight  his  way  over  the  bows,  and  struggle  out 
of  the  ruck  and  smother  of  the  forecastle,  by 
sturdy  buffeting  and  hard  knocks,  by  the  per- 
sistent edging  of  stout  shoulders  backed  by 
a  strong  heart  and  an  active  brain.  There 
is  probably  not  a  commander  of  an  ocean  liner 
who  has  not  been  around  the  world  as  a  com- 
mon sailor,  a  mate,  and  finally  a  master  of  a 
ship.  In  fact,  it  would  be  difficult  if  not  im- 
possible to  get  the  command  of  a  transatlantic 
ship  without  having  first  been  the  captain  of 
a  large  sailing  vessel.  Some  of  the  companies 
like  the  Cunard,  have  a  rule  requiring  that  a 
candidate  for  a  captaincy  shall  have  served 
as  a  captain  somewhere ;  and  only  a  few  years 
ago  a  sailor  on  one  of  the  largest  steamships 


40  THE    SEA  EOVEES 

plying  between  New  York  and  Liverpool,  who 
had  climbed  from  the  bottom  to  the  high  rank 
of  first  officer,  left  the  company  with  which 
he  had  made  his  progress  solely  that  he  might 
take  a  place  as  captain  on  a  smaller  and  less 
important  vessel.  If  he  succeeds  in  his  new 
berth — and  his  old  employers  will  watch  his 
course — it  is  more  than  likely  that  he  will  be 
called  back  in  a  few  years  and  have  a  com- 
mand given  him. 

It  is  the  man  who  knows  his  business  who 
makes  his  way  to  the  bridge.  No  matter  how 
gruff  or.  unpopular  he  may  be,  or  what  are 
any  of  his  personal  peculiarities,  if  he  under- 
stands his  business  and  knows  how  to  get 
smoothly  over  the  sea,  he  is  pretty  sure  of 
promotion.  A  captain,  however,  does  not 
obtain  on  shipboard  all  the  education  which 
makes  him  capable  of  commanding  a  Lucania 
or  a  Paris.  There  must  be  much  study  of 
books  as  well.  He  must  know  something  of 
the  art  of  shipbuilding,  of  engineering;  he 
must  be  familiar  with  the  science  of  meteor- 
ology; he  must  be  a  master  of  the  moods  of 


AN  OCEAN  FLYER 'S  CREW        41 

the  ocean,  the  currents  and  lanes  as  discov- 
ery has  set  them  forth;  he  must  have  the 
mathematics  of  navigation  completely  under 
control,  and  he  must  have  a  general  knowl- 
edge of  the  politics  and  laws  of  the  high  seas. 
Most  important  of  all,  he  must  be  a  man  of 
courage  and  good  judgment,  for  he  must  gov- 
ern his  crew  more  wisely,  shrewdly  and 
sternly  than  a  general  controls  his  army,  and 
be  prepared  to  withstand  the  attacks  of  na- 
ture's forces  with  as  much  skill  and  alertness 
as  the  leader  of  an  army  must  show  against 
a  surrounding  enemy.  His  responsibility 
never  ends,  not  even  when  he  is  asleep.  Some- 
times the  dangers  which  beset  him  forbid  any 
attempt  at  sleep,  and  hour  after  hour  the 
captain  must  stand  upon  his  high  bridge,  ex- 
posed to  all  manner  of  storms.  Often  does  a 
commander  come  into  port  from  a  perilous 
voyage,  during  which  for  two  days  and  nights 
he  has  not  left  his  bridge,  except  four  or  five 
times,  and  then  only  for  a  few  minutes  at  a 
time. 
There  was  a  time  when  the  captain  was  a 


42  THE    SEA   ROVEKS 

prominent  social  figure  on  all  ocean  steam- 
ships, but  this  is  no  longer  the  case.  He  may 
be  seen  at  his  table  in  the  saloon,  when  the 
i  weather  is  fine,  or  may  be  met  on  deck  occa- 
sionally when  he  is  looking  over  the  ship,  but 
at  other  times  he  is  generally  out  of  sight,  ex- 
cept when  he  may  appear  on  the  bridge.  The 
chief  officer  is  seen  most  of  all  by  the  passen- 
gers. His  principal  duty  is  to  look  after  the 
daily  work  of  the  crew,  and  he  is  about  the 
deck  constantly  when  not  inspecting  various 
parts  of  the  ship.  He  takes  an  observation 
on  the  bridge  with  the  other  officers  every  day 
at  twenty  minutes  before  noon,  but  with  that 
exception  is  seldom  seen  there.  The  other 
officers  are  in  sight  only  when  one  looks  up 
at  the  bridge.  Indeed,  on  some  of  the  newer 
ships  they  sleep  and  mess  in  quarters  of  their 
own  on  the  shade  deck,  and,  thus  are 
rarely  if  ever  brought  in  contact  with  the 
passengers. 

On  all  the  largest  steamships  there  are  be- 
sides a  captain  and  chief  officer,  three  second 
officers,  one  third  and  one  fourth  officer.    The 


THE   CAPTAIN    OF   AN   OCEAN   LINER 


AN  OCEAN  FLYER >S  CREW    43 

second  officers  are  known  as  senior  second, 
junior  second  and  extra  second,  and  each,  like 
the  chief  officer,  is  a  duly  qualified  master, 
capable  of  taking  the  ship  around  the  world 
if  need  be.  The  general  duty  of  the  second 
officer  is  the  navigation  of  the  ship  under  the 
captain's  directions.  Each  of  these  officers 
stands  a  four  hours '  watch  on  the  bridge,  and 
each  during  his  tour  of  duty  has,  as 
the  captain's  representative,  direct  charge 
of  the  ship.  The  third  and  fourth  officers 
stand  a  watch  of  six  hours,  alternating  with 
each  other,  and,  there  are,  therefore,  always 
a  second  and  third  or  fourth  officer  on  watch 
at  the  same  time.  Although  in  rough  weather 
it  is  work  that  tests  the  strength  and  tries  the 
nerves  of  the  strongest  man,  no  officer  can 
leave  the  bridge  while  on  watch,  and  should 
he  violate  this  rule,  he  would  be  dismissed  at 
once.  In  addition  to  his  watch  the  third  offi- 
cer has  charge  of  all  the  flags  and  signals  by 
night  and  day,  and  he  also  keeps  the  compass 
book,  while  the  fourth  officer,  besides  his  work 


44  THE    SEA   EOVERS 

on  the  bridge,  has  charge  of  the  condition  of 
the  boats. 

Observations  are  taken  every  two  hours,  as 
on  an  ocean  greyhound,  rushing  over  the 
course  between  America  and  Europe  at  the 
rate  of  twenty  miles  an  hour,  it  is  of  the  first 
importance  that  the  ship 's  position  should  be 
known  at  all  times.  Fog  may  come  down 
at  any  moment,  and  observations  not  to  be 
obtainable  for  several  hours.  The  positions 
of  more  than  one  hundred  stars  are  known, 
and  by  observing  any  of  these  the  ship's 
whereabouts  can  be  ascertained  in  a  few  min- 
utes. Of  course,  the  "road"  becomes  more 
or  less  familiar  to  a  man  who  crosses  the 
ocean  along  the  same  route  year  after  year, 
yet  this  familiarity  never  breeds  contempt  or 
carelessness,  for  no  man  knows  all  the  influ- 
ences that  affect  the  currents  of  the  ocean, 
and  while  you  will  find  the  current  in  a  given 
place  the  same  forty  times  in  succession,  on 
the  forty-first  trip  it  may  be  entirely  changed. 
Now  and  then  a  big  storm  that  has  ended  four 
or  five  hours  before  a  liner  passes  a  certain 


AN  OCEAN  FLYER 'S  CREW        45 

point  may  give  the  surface  current  a  strong 
set  in  one  direction,  and  there  is  no  means  of 
telling  when  these  influences  may  have  been 
at  work  save  by  taking  the  ship's  position  at 
frequent  intervals. 

The  ship 's  crew  stand  watch  and  watch,  and 
in  each  watch  there  are  three  quartermasters 
who  have  charge  of  the  wheel.  Steering  in 
the  old  days  before  the  introduction  of  steam 
gear,  was  an  arduous  and  too  often  perilous 
duty,  but  to-day,  even  in  the  roughest 
weather,  a  lad  of  twelve  can  easily  manage 
the  wheel,  which  is  merely  the  purchasing  end 
of  a  mechanical  system  that  opens  and  shuts 
the  valve  governing  the  steam  admitted  to 
the  steering  cylinders.  First-class  ships  num- 
ber from  twelve  to  fifteen  men  in  each  watch. 
A  certain  number  of  these  must  be  able  sea- 
men, and  none  are  allowed  many  idle  mo- 
ments. In  the  middle  watches  the  decks  are 
scrubbed;  in  the  morning  watches  the  paint 
work  is  overhauled  and  cleaned;  and  finally, 
when  the  weather  permits,  the  brass  work  is 
polished  until  it  is  made  as  radiant  as  the 


46  THE    SEA   EOVERS 

midday  sun.  This  scrubbing,  burnishing  and 
cleansing  runs  through  every  department,  and 
in  no  perfunctory  way,  for  each  day  the 
ship  is  inspected  thoroughly,  and  upon  the 
result  hangs  the  possible  promotion  of  the 
subordinates. 

Once  in  every  twenty-four  hours  the  cap- 
tain receives  a  written  report  from  the  first 
officer,  the  chief  engineer  and  the  chief  stew- 
ard, and  at  eleven  o'clock  in  the  forenoon  of 
each  day,  accompanied  by  the  doctor,  he  in- 
spects all  parts  of  the  ship.  Let  us  follow 
him,  if  he  is  gracious  enough  to  give  permis- 
sion, in  this  daily  visit  to  the  underground 
realm  ruled  over  by  the  chief  engineer  and 
steward.  In  the  fleetest  of  the  liners  the  en- 
gineer force  numbers  nearly  two  hundred 
men,  divided,  as  a  rule,  into  three  crews,  with 
a  double  allowance  of  officers  for  duty.  An 
engineer  keeps  watch  in  each  fire-room,  and 
two  are  stationed  on  each  engine-room  plat- 
form. Watches  depend  upon  the  weather. 
In  most  cases,  the  force,  officers  and  men, 
serve  four  out  of  twelve  hours,  but  in  foggy 


AN  OCEAN  FLYER 'S  CREW        47 

or  stormy  weather  officers  stand  at  the  throt- 
tles with  peremptory  orders  to  do  no  other 
work.  In  relieving  each  other  great  care  is 
taken;  those  going  on  the  platforms  feeling 
the  warmth  of  the  bearings,  examining  the 
condition  of  the  pins  and  shafting,  testing  the 
valves,  locating  the  position  of  the  throttle, 
counting  the  revolutions,  and  by  every  tech- 
nical trial  satisfying  themselves  before  as- 
suming charge  that  all  is  right. 

Distressing  at  all  times  is  the  lot  of  the 
poor  fellows  who  man  the  stoke  hole.  On  the 
Fiirst  Bismarck,  for  instance,  there  are  twen- 
ty-four furnaces,  manned  by  thirty-six 
brawny  and  half-naked  stokers.  Suddenly 
from  somewhere  in  the  darkness  comes  three 
shrill  calls  upon  a  whistle,  and  instantly  each 
furnace  door  flies  open,  and  out  dart  hungry 
tongues  of  fire.  With  averted  heads  and 
steaming  bodies,  four  stokers  begin  to*  shovel 
furiously,  while  two  others  thrust  their  slice- 
bars  through  each  door  and  into  the  mass  of 
fire  and  flame.  Burying  their  lances  deep  in 
the  coals,  they  throw  their  weights  full  upon 


48         •       THE    SEA   ROVERS 

the  ends  as  levers,  and  lift  the  whole  bank  of 
fire  several  inches.  Then  they  draw  ont  the 
lances,  leaving  a  black  hole  through  the  fire 
into  which  the  draft  is  sucked  with  an  in- 
creasing roar.  Three  times  they  thrust  and 
withdraw  the  lances,  pausing  after  each 
charge  to  plunge  their  heads  in  buckets  of 
water,  and  take  deep  draughts  from  bottles  of 
red  wine.  But  this  cooling  respite  lasts  only 
a  moment  at  best,  for  their  taskmasters  watch 
and  drive,  them,  and  each  furnace  must  do  its 
stint.  It  is  fair,  however,  to  say  that  every- 
thing that  can  be  done  to  lessen  the  hardships 
of  the  stoke-hole  has  been  done  by  the  steam- 
ship companies.  The  best  quality  of  food  is 
given  the  stokers,  and  they  are  allowed  double 
rations  of  wine  and  kummel  four  times  a  day, 
practically  all  they  care  to  drink. 

The  chief  engineer  of  an  ocean  steamship 
is  fairly  well  paid,  and  he  deserves  to  be,  for 
fidelity  and  merit  lead  to  the  engine-room  as 
they  do  to  the  bridge,  and  mastery  of  the  for- 
mer presupposes  long  years  of  exacting  serv- 
ice in  subordinate  positions.    Indeed,  many 


AN  OCEAN  FLYEE  'S  CREW        49 

of  these  officers  have  given  their  best  years 
to  one  employ,  and,  like  the  hardy  McAn- 
drews  sung  by  Kipling,  deserve  much  of  it  in 
every  way.  Some  of  the  old  chiefs  are  the 
greatest  travelers  in  the  world,  so  far  as  miles 
may  count.  One  of  whom  I  was  told  has 
traversed  in  the  service  of  one  company  more 
than  900,000  shore  miles,  a  distance  four 
times  that  between  the  earth  and  the  moon; 
and  still  higher  is  the  record  of  another,  who 
completed  before  his  retirement  154  round 
trips,  making  in  distance  over  1,000,000  stat- 
ute miles. 

The  captain  in  his  daily  tour  scrutinizes 
every  nook  and  corner  of  the  engineer's  de- 
partment, and  not  less  scrupulous  is  his  in- 
spection of  the  domain  in  which  the  chief 
steward  holds  sway.  There  is  good  reason 
for  this,  since,  as  far  as  the  comfort  of  the 
passengers  is  concerned,  the  chief  steward  is 
the  most  important  person  on  board  a  liner, 
having  charge  of  the  staterooms,  dining- 
room,  storerooms  and  kitchen.  Like  the  en- 
gine-room the   ship's  kitchen,  located  amid- 


50  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

ships,  is  an  unknown  world  to  most  of  the 
passengers.  There  are,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
three  kitchens,  besides  a  serving-room.  The 
soups,  fish,  meats  and  vegetables  are  prepared 
and  cooked  in  one  room  and  the  bread  and 
pastry  in  another,  while  the  steerage  has  a 
kitchen  to  itself  in  which  all  the  cooking  is 
done  by  steam.  Space  being  valuable,  all 
these  rooms  are  small,  and  meals  for  500  or 
1,000  people  are  cooked  in  an  apartment  no 
larger  than  the  kitchen  in  a  low-priced  flat,  or 
the  pantry  in  a  country  house.  This  makes 
it  necessary  to  keep  everything  in  its  place, 
and  it  amazes  one  to  see  how  compactly  the 
ship 's  supplies  can  be  arranged.  Nothing  is 
left  down  on  shelves  or  in  drawers  which  may 
be  hung  on  hooks,  and  even  the  platters  and 
serving  dishes  are  made  to  hang,  there  being 
a  loophole  at  one  end  for  this  purpose. 

Moreover,  what  the  ship's  kitchen  loses  in 
size  is  made  up  in  the  number  of  storerooms. 
Far  aft  is  the  main  storeroom,  which,  with 
its  bins  reaching  from  floor  to  ceiling,  and  its 


AN  OCEAN  FLYER'S  CREW        51 

racks  overhead,  looks  like  a  wholesale  grocery 
store. 

Close  at  hand  is  the  wine  locker,  a  long 
place,  lined  with  narrow  shelves,  which  have 
an  upward  tilt  and  are  crowded  with  all  sorts 
and  kinds  of  bottled  liquors.  Down  deeper, 
most  often  where  the  stern  rolls  in  from  the 
counter,  is  a  big  compartment,  where  are 
stored  barrels  of  flour,  potatoes,  vinegar  and 
beer,  which  when  needed  are  hoisted  up  under 
the  direction  of  the  storekeeper.  Pretty  well 
forward  is  the  refrigerating  plant,  a  zinc- 
lined  chamber,  where  the  choicest  sides  of 
beef,  joints  of  mutton,  chickens  and  turkeys 
are  kept  frozen.  All  the  liners,  it  may  be 
noted  in  passing,  carry  a  butcher,  whose  duty 
it  is  to  cut  the  steaks  and  chops,  and  to  see 
that  no  good  material  goes  to  waste  through 
unskillful  hacking. 

Adjoining  the  kitchen  is  the  serving-room 
or  pantry,  frescoed  with  silver  coffee-pots  and 
cream-mugs  and  lined  with  shelves  filled  with 
crockery,  while  the  hook-dotted  ceiling  glit- 
ters with  an  hundred  other  pieces  of  silver- 


52  THE    SEA  BOVERS 

ware  which  swing  and  scintillate  with  every 
motion  of  the  ship.  The  shelves  are  really 
wooden  pockets,  faced  with  strips  of  wood, 
which  keep  the  dishes  from  rolling  out,  and 
stowed  away  there  are  cups  and  plates  by  the 
hundred.  Along  the  side  of  the  room  is  a  big 
hot  press,  having  on  its  top  all  manner  of 
indentations  for  the  trenchers,  saucepans  and 
soup  pots  which  are  sent  in  from  the  kitchen 
laden  with  food  at  mealtime.  This  is  flanked 
by  a  line  of  glistening  tea  and  coffee  urns, 
while  in  a  convenient  corner  is  a  roomy  ice- 
box for  the  cold  meats  and  butter. 

To  the  kitchen  and  the  pantry  the  store- 
room is  always  sending  tribute,  and  they  send 
it  to  the  glass-doored  dining-room  which,  with 
its  long  tables,  its  dazzling  white  cloths,  and 
its  glittering  array  of  silver  and  glass,  looks 
at  night  like  an  enchanted  realm.  Seats  at 
table  are  assigned  by  the  steward  or  the 
purser,  who  gives  out  the  seats  to  those  who 
ask  for  them  first.  Each  seat  is  numbered 
and  the  passenger  receives  a  billet  with  his 
seat  number  on  it  when  he  goes  to  his  first 


AN  OCEAN  FLYER'S  CREW        53 

meal  on  board.  Formerly  there  was  a  strug- 
gle for  seats  at  the  captain's  table,  but  now 
the  wise  and  wary  ones  rally  about  the  purser 
and  the  doctor,  for  the  commander's  duties 
seldom  permit  him  to  go  below  save  at  dinner- 
time. Still,  wherever  his  place  at  table  may 
be  fixed,  the  cabin  passenger  finds  that  no  op- 
portunity is  neglected  to  serve  his  comfort 
and  lighten  the  tedium  of  the  voyage.  On  the 
German  lines  a  band  accompanies  every  ves- 
sel, and  plays  through  the  long  first-cabin  din- 
ner, and  again  on  deck  in  the  evening.  All 
German  and  American  holidays  are  observed 
on  these  boats,  and  when  Christmas  comes  to 
the  travelers  at  sea,  they  find  themselves  in 
the  midst  of  a  Fatherland  festival,  the  chief 
feature  of  which  is  a  brightly  adorned  and 
illuminated  tree.  Nor  are  the  steerage  pas- 
sengers forgotten  on  these  occasions,  amuse- 
ments, and  a  special  feast  being  provided  for 
them. 

On  the  boats  of  the  Compagnie  Generale 
Transatlantique  French  festivals  and  Ameri- 
can holidays  are  celebrated  by  concerts,  balls, 


54  THE    SEA   EOVERS 

dinner  parties  and  extra  luxuries  at  the  regu- 
lar meals.  Entertainment  is  provided  for  the 
steerage  passengers  and  a  special  menu  is 
furnished  for  the  festal  days.  On  such  occa- 
sions, too,  the  ships  are  gayly  decorated  with 
bunting  from  stem  to  stern.  The  "captain's 
dinner' '  is  another  pleasant  feature  of  the 
voyage  on  a  French  liner.  This  takes  place 
just  before  the  end  of  the  voyage  and  is  re- 
garded as  a  token  of  good  will  between  the 
passengers  and  the  ship's  company.  Cham- 
pagne is  furnished  without  extra  charge  at 
this  dinner  and  toasts  and  speechmaking  fol- 
low. On  a  British  liner  on  Sunday  morning 
the  captain,  in  full  uniform,  supported  by  his 
officers,  reads  the  Church  of  England  service, 
to  which  all  are  invited,  while  American  and 
British  holidays  are  observed  in  a  fitting  man- 
ner, the  ship  being  always  "dressed"  for  the 
occasion.  The  boats  of  the  British  lines  have 
also  a  concert  for  the  exploitation  of  the  talent 
on  board  and  a  parting  dinner  given  an  even- 
ing or  two  before  arrival  in  port. 
Meantime  how  do  the  steerage  folk  get  on 


AN  OCEAN  FLYER 'S  CREW        55 

when  voyaging  over  the  western  ocean?  Here 
there  is  another  and  different  story  to  tell. 
In  a  ship  like  the  Britannic  of  the  White  Star 
line,  picture  to  yourself  a  barn-like  apartment 
some  seventy  feet  long  and  thirty  feet  wide, 
but  tapering  almost  to  a  point  at  the  forward 
end.  It  is  dimly  lighted  and  badly  ventilated 
by  means  of  a  shaft,  through  which  the  main- 
mast enters,  and  by  portholes  which  are  too 
near  the  water  ever  to  be  opened  except  in 
harbor  and  are  well  nigh  submerged  when  the 
vessel  lies  over  or  rolls.  Lined  along  the  three 
sides  of  this  rude  triangle  are  large  skeleton 
frames,  each  upholding  two  tiers  of  coffin-like 
bunks,  one  above  the  other,  the  beds  being 
placed  side  to  side  in  rows  of  eight  and  end  to 
end  two  deep.  Thus  each  of  these  structures 
holds  thirty-two  bunks,  whose  sides  and  bot- 
toms are  of  rough  boards.  A  narrow  passage- 
way runs  across  ship  between  the  pens,  of 
which  there  are  seven  in  all,  making  a  total  of 
224  souls  who  are  crowded  into  these  sordid 
quarters.  Picture  this  to  yourself  and  you 
have  before  you  the  men's  cabin  of  the  steer- 


56  THE   SEA  EOVEES 

age  of  the  Britannic.  The  room  being  lighted 
at  night  by  gasoline  lamps,  smoking  is  forbid- 
den, while  all  relaxation  must  be  taken  on  that 
small  portion  of  the  lower  deck  beyond  which 
no  steerage  passenger  is  allowed  to  roam,  for 
there  is  no  means  of  amusement  or  recreation 
in  the  cabin. 

Still  there  is  a  brighter  side  to  the  picture. 
All  the  companies  provide  ample  and  whole- 
some fare  for  their  steerage  passengers.  No 
captain  ever  fails  to  include  in  his  daily  tour 
a  personal  and  painstaking  inspection  of  this 
department  and  he  is  always  approachable 
in  the  event  of  complaints  arising  on  the  part 
of  the  humblest  and  poorest  traveler.  It  is 
related  of  one  old-time  commander,  Captain 
John  Mirehouse,  that  in  order  to  assure  him- 
self of  the  proper  quality  and  preparation  of 
the  steerage  food  he  invariably  had  his  lunch 
served  from  the  steerage  galley  at  the  dinner 
hour ;  and  he  used  to  declare  that  his  lunches 
were  as  wholesome  and  palatable  as  he  could 
desire.  Nor  is  it  to  be  supposed  that  steerage 
passengers  are  all  immigrants,  for,  odd  as  it 


AN  OCEAN  FLYER  >S  CREW    57 

may  seem,  there  are  many  world  wanderers 
who  cross  and  recross  in  the  steerage,  who 
travel  over  great  parts  of  the  world  and  who 
in  their  class  are  as  independent  as  the  men 
and  women  lodged  in  the  first  cabin.  Besides 
these  curious  characters  there  are  Scottish 
carpenters  and  other  mechanics  who  come  to 
America  for  a  few  months  at  a  time  to  take 
advantage  of  higher  wages  and  who  return 
as  they  came  when  the  Christmas  holidays 
draw  nigh.  Often  a  liner  leaving  New  York 
in  the  early  days  of  December  carries  more 
than  1,000  passengers  in  the  steerage. 

Whether  you  travel  in  the  cabin  or  the 
steerage,  the  closing  days  of  a  voyage  are 
always  sure  to  be  the  shortest  and  the  pleas- 
antest  ones.  The  routine  of  marine  life  ceases 
to  be  a  burden,  and  with  the  disappearance  of 
the  last  lingering  cases  of  sea  sickness  life  on 
the  fleet  greyhound  of  the  waters  becomes  a 
source  of  joy.  Newly  found  friends  and 
glimpses  of  passing  vessels  cheer  and  break 
the  solitude,  while  the  tonic  of  the  sea  air 
courses  like  an  elixir  in  the  blood.    Young 


58  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

couples  flirt  demurely  in  shady  corners  of  the 
deck,  whence  issue  now  and  again  sudden 
bursts  of  rippling  laughter;  nor  is  there  lack 
of  jollity  in  the  smoking  room,  whence  eddy 
the  flotsam  and  jetsam  of  the  ship  and  cards 
rule  the  hour  from  early  forenoon  until  the 
lights  are  turned  out  at  night.  If  it  be  sum- 
mer and  the  passage  a  westward  one  you  may 
count,  as  a  rule,  upon  skirting  the  Grand 
Banks  without  mishap  and  upon  rounding  the 
Georges  in  the  same  lucky  manner.  Then, 
after  long  and  eager  waiting,  comes  the  happy 
hour  when  there  is  a  cry  of  i '  Sail,  ho, ' '  and  a 
few  minutes  later  a  yawl  emerges  from  the 
gathering  darkness  and  a  bluff,  black-garbed 
pilot  climbs  to  the  ship 's  deck,  bringing  news 
from  the  outer  world  and  the  glad  assurance 
that  land  and  home  are  just  beyond  the  hori- 
zon line. 

Soon  comes  the  welcome  cry, ' '  There  she  is, 
Fire  Island  light,  right  over  the  starboard 
bow."  The  watcher  in  the  lighthouse  tele- 
graphs the  steamer's  arrival  to  the  quaran- 
tine station  and  the  ship  news  office,  and 


AN  OCEAN  FLYER 'S  CREW        59 

long  before  noon  the  vessel  reaches  quaran- 
tine. Here  the  health  officer  boards  her,  and 
if  it  is  found  that  she  has  no  case  of  conta- 
gious disease  on  board  she  is  permitted  to 
proceed  to  her  dock,  which  she  reaches  in 
about  one  hour  and  a  half,  including  the  time 
of  examination.  Meanwhile  she  has  been  met 
down  the  bay  by  a  revenue  cutter  having  a 
squad  of  customs  officers  on  board  and  dec- 
larations have  been  made  and  signed  by  the 
cabin  passengers  as  to  the  contents  of  their 
trunks,  which  are  searched  as  soon  as  the 
vessel  arrives  at  her  dock.  Here,  also,  an 
officer  of  the  Immigration  Bureau  takes 
charge  of  the  steerage  passengers  and  has 
folk  and  baggage  conveyed  to  the  Barge 
Office  for  the  examination  which  will  impel 
their  return  to  the  place  from  which  they 
came  or  end  in  the  granting  of  permission  for 
them  to  enter  the  land  of  mystery  and 
promise. 

Within  the  hour  in  which  the  liner  reaches 
her  moorings  on  the  New  York  or  Jersey 
shore  the  last  passenger  has  taken  his  depar- 


60  THE   SEA   ROVERS 

ture,  shore  leave  has  been  granted  to  the  ma- 
jority of  the  ship's  company  and  waiting 
hands  have  promptly  taken  in  hand  the  task 
of  makmjr  ready  for  the  leviathan's  next 
ocean  pilgrimage,  since,  as  I  said  at  the  out- 
set, one  voyage  is  no  sooner  ended  than  prep- 
arations for  another  are  begun. 


CHAPTER  ni 


THE    MAN-OF-WARSMAN 


It  is  by  no  means  an  easy  task  to  secure  ad- 
mission to  the  United  States  Navy,  and  of 
those  who  present  themselves  for  enlistment 
in  ordinary  times  about  one  man  in  a  dozen 
is  accepted.  Landsmen  furnish  a  great  ma- 
jority of  recruits,  and  of  these  more  come,  it 
is  said,  from  New  York  than  any  other  city  in 
the  country.  The  candidate  who  presents 
himself  on  board  of  any  one  of  the  receiving 
ships  constantly  in  commission  for  enlistment 
purposes  is  first  put  through  a  rigid  oral  ex- 
amination' designed  to  prove  his  mental  and 
moral  makeup.  If  he  passes  this  test  the  re- 
cruiting officer  turns  him  over  to  the  examin- 
ing surgeon,  by  whom  the  discovery  of  the 
slightest  physical  defect  is  counted  as  suffi- 

61 


62  THE    SEA   EOVERS 

cient  ground  for  the  candidate's  rejection.  If, 
however,  he  passes  the  doctor  he  is  vaccinated 
and  sent  back  to  the  recruiting  officer,  who 
swears  him  in  for  a  three  years '  cruise,  after 
which  he  is  turned  over  to  the  paymaster's 
clerk  to  draw  his  uniforms  and  small  stores. 

A  month  of  preliminary  training  on  the  re- 
ceiving ship  follows.  Here  he  is  put  through 
the  well-known  "  setting-up  drill, ' '  which  is 
designed  to  give  the  full  use  of  the  muscles 
and  feet  and  to  develop  the  agility  and  endur- 
ance necessary  to  the  performance  of  ship 
duty.  This  exercise  is  of  daily  occurrence 
while  the  recruit  is  in  the  early  stage  of  his 
enlistment  and  is  practiced  frequently  during 
the  entire  period  of  service,  being  part  of  the 
drill  of  every  ship 's  company.  The  recruit  is 
also  given  practice  in  what  is  known  as  "the 
boat  drill,"  and  when  opportunity  offers  in 
the  manning  and  manipulation  of  the  guns. 

At  the  end  of  his  first  month  comes  the 
newly  enlisted  man's  assignment  to  a  vessel 
in  active  cruising  service.  Here,  with  a  goodly 
batch  of  other  landsmen,  he  is  taken  in  hand 


THE  MAN-OF-WARSMAN  63 

by  the  master-at-arms,  gets  a  ship's  number 
and  a  mess  kit,  learns  where  to  stow  his  cloth- 
ing and  hammock,  and  is  part  and  parcel  of 
the  life  on  a  man-of-war. 

The  recruit's  first  days  on  shipboard  are 
apt  to  put  his  nerves  and  temper  to  the  test, 
for  the  old-timers  among  the  ship 's  company 
are  sure  to  let  pass  no  opportunity  to  bedevil 
and  confound  him.  Calking  mat  is  the  name 
given  to  the  piece  of  matting  which  the  blue- 
jacket spreads  upon  the  deck  when  he  wants 
to  take  a  nap  and  which  protects  his  uniform 
from  being  soiled.  He  buys  it  himself,  but 
never  a  landsman  went  aboard  his  first  ship 
that  he  was  not  told  to  go  to  the  master-at- 
arms  for  a  calking  mat.  Now,  the  average 
master-at-arms  on  a  man-of-war  is  a  man 
who,  having  been  in  the  navy  for  half  a  life- 
time, has  ceased  to  find  amusement  in  the 
calking-mat  request  preferred  to  him  by  sev- 
eral thousand  recruits,  and  as  a  consequence 
the  reception  the  newcomer  gets  when  he 
approaches  Jimmy  Legs  on  this  matter  is 
liable  to  be  a  badly  mixed  affair  of  boots  and 


64  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

language.  Again,  recruits  are  often  sent  to 
the  officer  of  the  deck  to  prefer  absurd  ques- 
tions or  questions  on  matters  in  which  they 
have  no  concern.  When  one  of  these  recruits 
walks  up  to  the  officer  of  the  deck  and,  after 
a  bow,  innocently  asks  when  the  ship  is  to  sail 
he  is  in  for  a  speedy  if  disgraceful  scramble 
forward.  Or  on  his  first  day  aboard  a  man-of- 
war  the  recruit  is  often  told  that  in  order  to 
go  below  to  his  locker  he  must  first  get  per- 
mission from  the  officer  of  the  deck.  ' '  To  my 
locker  below,  sir,  may  I  go,  sir?"  he  is  told  to 
say  when  he  goes  to  the  mast  to  ask  for  the 
desired  permission.  If  the  officer  of  the  deck 
happens  to  be  in  good  humor  he  will  turn 
away  to  preserve  his  dignity  by  not  smiling, 
but  if  his  temper  is  on  edge  the  recruit  is  in 
for  a  lesson  in  directness  of  language  that 
will  make  him  wish  he  had  not  thrown  over  his 
job  ashore.  Trials  of  this  sort,  however,  soon 
have  an  ending.  The  average  recruit  quickly 
masters  the  marine  ropes,  and  instances  are 
not  uncommon  of  clever  landsmen  who  have 
finished  their  first  three  years '  cruise  as  chief 


THE  MAN-OF-WARSMAN  65 

petty    officers,  drawing   from   $50   to  $75  a 
month. 

Besides  the  receiving  ships  regularly  de- 
voted to  the  enlistment  of  naval  recruits  on 
the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  coasts  American  war- 
ships are  constantly  shipping  men,  both  in 
home  and  foreign  ports,  to  fill  gaps  in  crews. 
In  this  way  many  peculiar  geniuses,  men  of 
really  remarkable  attainments  along  certain 
lines,  gain  admission  into  the  navy  as  enlisted 
men.  At  Bangkok  a  few  years  ago  an  Ameri- 
can man-of-war  shipped  a  German  as  a  mess- 
room  attendant.  He  was  a  fine-looking  man 
of  thirty  and  had  little  to  say  to  his  mates. 
One  morning  at  sea  soon  after  the  German's 
enlistment  a  knot  of  officers  gathered  in  the 
wardroom  were  discussing  a  difficult  point  in 
ordnance.  The  messroom  attendant,  who 
was  watching  out  for  the  officers'  needs,  ven- 
tured to  enter  into  the  discussion.  He  did  it, 
however,  so  quietly  and  respectfully  and  at 
once  showed  such  perfect  knowledge  of  the 
topic  in  hand  that  the  officers  found  them- 
selves listening  to  him  with  much  interest.  In 


66  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

five  minutes  the  German  had  shown  that  there 
was  no  detail  of  the  armanent  of  the  world's 
navies  with  which  he  was  not  familiar  and 
that  he  was  a  past  master  in  all  matters  per- 
taining to  modern  great  guns.  His  proficiency 
in  this  respect  being  reported  to  the  command- 
ing officer,  he  was  made  a  chief  gunner  's  mate 
and  was  about  to  be  a  gunner  when  his  time 
expired  and  he  went  to  Germany,  where  he 
was  employed  by  the  Krupps  as  an  ordnance 
expert.  It  came  out  that  he  had  spent  his  life 
in  the  ordnance  branch  of  the  Krupp  works 
and  that  he  had  been  compelled  to  leave  Ger- 
many suddenly  on  account  of  some  trouble 
in  which  he  had  become  involved.  He  had 
gone  to  Siam  in  the  hope  of  getting  an  oppor- 
tunity to  rearrange  the  Siamese  fortifications. 
Failing  in  this,  and  discouraged  and  penni- 
less, he  had  shipped  in  the  American  navy. 

"Once  a  sailor  always  a  sailor"  is  not 
strictly  true  of  men-of-warsmen  of  the  Ameri- 
can navy.  Less  than  one-half  of  the  men  who 
complete  one  enlistment  ship  for  a  second 
three  years'  cruise,  but  a  majority  of  the  men 


THE  MAN-OF-WAKSMAN  67 

who  put  in  two  cruises  settle  down  to  a  life- 
long continuance  in  the  service,  for  when  a 
bluejacket  has  passed  one  or  two  summers  in 
the  latitude  of  the  North  Cape  and  a  couple  of 
winters  among  the  West  Indies  or  in  the 
South  Pacific  he  is  pretty  sure  to  acquire  a 
dislike  for  the  climate  of  the  United  States 
that  keeps  him  in  the  navy  for  good  and  all. 
Moreover,  after  a  few  years  in  the  navy  a 
bluejacket  becomes  possessed  of  the  idea  that 
he  is  really  doing  nothing  aboard  ship  to  earn 
his  $16  a  month  and  board. 

Herein,  however,  he  unconsciously  proves 
himself  a  humorist,  for  the  routine  of  life  on 
a  man-of-war  is  in  reality  a  hard  and  labor- 
ious one.  Reveille  is  sounded  at  daybreak, 
and  the  men  who  have  not  been  on  watch  dur- 
ing the  night  turn  out  of  their  hammocks,  lash 
and  stow  their  bedding  and  get  early  coffee 
and  biscuit.  Then  clothes  are  scrubbed,  decks 
washed  down  and  dried  and  the  ship's  side 
and  boats  cleaned,  so  that  when  the  breakfast 
call  is  sounded  at  7:30  o'clock  most  of  her 
morning  toilet  has  been  made. 


68  THE    SEA   BOVERS 

Breakfast  over,  tHe  men  light  their  pipes 
and  loll  at  ease  until  the  uniform  of  the  day 
is  announced,  whereupon  they  array  them- 
selves in  the  garb  prescribed  and  when  the 
" turn-to' '  call  has  been  sounded  proceed  to 
their  several  tasks.  The  days  and  even  the 
hours  and  minutes  of  men-of-warsmen  are  al- 
lotted to  special  duties.  Every  day  they  are 
put  through  drill,  sometimes  with  great  guns, 
sometimes  with  cutlasses,  sometimes  with 
small  boats  and  in  many  other  ways.  More- 
over, arms  and  accoutrements  have  to  be 
cleaned  daily,  the  ordnance  freed  from  rust  and 
stain  and  the  brasswork  kept  polished.  While 
this  is  going  on  the  bugle  sounds  the  sick  call 
and  all  who  feel  the  need  of  the  surgeon's  care 
repair  to  the  sick  bay,  after  which  a  list  of 
those  unfit  for  service  is  furnished  the  officer 
of  the  deck,  so  that  their  duties  can  be  at- 
tended to  by  their  mates. 

The  morning  is  still  young  when  the  order 
comes,  "  Clear  up  the  decks  for  inspection. ' ' 
Cleaning  rags  are  put  away,  hands  washed, 
an  extra  hitch  given  to  the  trousers,  and  then 


THE  MAN-OF-WARSMAN  69 

the  call  to  quarters  is  sounded.  The  men  go 
to  their  stations  at  the  various  guns,  their 
officers  appear  and  a  swift  inspection  of  their 
appearance  is  made,  after  which  the  several 
divisional  officers  report  to  the  executive 
officer.  The  last  named  is  armed  with  a  list  of 
those  who  are  legitimately  absent  and  checks 
off  the  absentees  reported  by  the  division  offi- 
cers. When  this  task  is  finished  the  executive 
reports  to  the  captain,  who  is  standing  near 
and  who  then  makes  a  tour  of  th*e  ship,  in- 
specting battery  and  crew.  Following  inspec- 
tion comes  some  of  the  drills  already  referred 
to,  dinner  at  noon,  an  hour  for  its  discussion 
and  smoking,  and  more  drills  during  the  af- 
ternoon, ending  with  the  setting-up  drill  just 
before  the  bugle  sounds  for  supper. 

After  that  meal  the  men  are  at  liberty  to 
do  very  much  as  they  please  unless  a  search- 
light or  night  signal  drill  happens  to  be 
scheduled  for  the  evening.  With  9  o'clock 
comes  taps  and  the  cry  of  the  master-at-arms, 
1 '  Turn  in  your  hammocks  and  keep  silence ' ' — 
an  order  that  must  be  obeyed,  for  on  a  man- 


70  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

of -war  the  sleep  of  the  crew  when  the  hour 
comes  is  a  sacred  thing  and  not  to  be  dis- 
turbed. 

The  modern  battleship  is  first  of  all  a  fight- 
ing machine,  and  that  being  the  chief  pur- 
pose for  which  it  is  created  it  is  natural  that 
the  drill  of  "clearing  ship  for  action' '  is  one 
to  which  particular  attention  should  be  given. 
Following  it  always  is  a  mimic  encounter  with 
an  imaginary  foe.  Not  the  slightest  detail  in 
preparation  is  ever  neglected  and  only  blood 
and  shrieks  and  wounds  are  lacking  to  make 
the  imaginary  battle  as  realistic  as  an  actual 
one  would  be. 

As  soon  as  the  cry  of  the  boatswain's  mate 
echoes  from  the  main  deck  the  bugle  sounds 
the  "assembly"  on  the  gun  and  berth  decks 
and  the  officers  and  men  at  once  hurry  to  their 
allotted  stations.  Quiet  is  insisted  upon; 
there  is  little  confusion,  and  the  swirling  tide 
set  in  motion  by  the  boatswain's  call  has  no 
conflicting  currents.  So  far  as  is  possible 
each  of  the  squads  into  which  the  ship 's  com- 
pany is  divided  is  berthed  and  messed  in  that 


THE  MAN-OF-WARSMAN  71 

section  of  the  ship  in  which  its  duties  will  lie 
in  the  hour  of  battle.  Thus  on  a  battleship 
like  the  Virginia  a  portion  of  the  first  division 
improvises  as  soon  as  the  call  is  sounded  a 
breastwork  for  sharpshooters,  using  ham- 
mocks and  awnings. 

Meanwhile  others  of  the  same  division  rig 
collision  mats,  unship  the  railing  around  the 
forecastle,  lower  anchor  davits  in  cradles  and 
carry  below  and  secure  levers  and  tackles.  At 
the  same  time  other  divisions  lower  and  un- 
ship awning  stanchions  and  railing  in  wake  of 
the  guns,  close  water-tight  compartments,  rig 
in  and  secure  danger  booms,  unship  ladders 
and  supply  fresh  water  for  drinking  purposes. 
Magazines  are  opened  and  lanterns  trimmed, 
battle  bucklers  are  fitted  to  air  ports,  and 
those  detailed  to  attend  speaking  tubes  in  the 
wake  of  torpedo  tubes  go  to  their  stations  and 
receive  and  respond  to  the  signals  sent  out 
from  the  central  station.  Nor  is  the  sur- 
geon 's  division  less  busy  at  this  critical  hour ; 
its  members  convert  the  wardroom  into  a  tem- 
porary operating  room,  remove  rugs  and  cur- 


72  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

tains  and  see  that  the  adjoining  staterooms 
are  made  ready  for  the  reception  of  the 
wounded.  There  is  an  enormous  amount  of 
work  to  be  done  before  a  ship  can  be  got  in 
readiness,  but  in  little  more  than  a  half  hour 
after  the  order  is  given  the  captain  hears 
from  his  executive  officer  the  report,  "Ship 
is  ready  for  action,  sir."  The  gun  crews, 
stripped  to  the  waist,  with  their  knotty  mus- 
cles standing  out  in  high  relief,  wait  for  the 
order  to  begin  the  fighting;  and  when  it  comes 
the  great  guns  are  elevated,  depressed,  con- 
centrated and  put  through  all  the  maneuvers 
possible  in  an  actual  battle.  After  this  there 
is  a  moment's  rest,  and  then,  last  of  all,  the 
order  is  given  to  repel  boarders.  The  enemy 
is  alongside  and  swarming  over  the  bulwarks. 
The  men  in  the  tops  pour  down  a  murderous 
fire  with  rifles  and  Maxim  and  Gatling  guns ; 
headed  by  their  officers,  the  men  on  deck,  cut- 
lass in  one  hand  and  revolver  in  the  other, 
slash  and  hew,  shoot  and  hack  until  the  enemy 
turn  tail  and  flee  as  fast  as  their  imaginary 
legs  can  carry  them.    The  ship  is  saved. 


THE  MAN-OF-WAESMAN  73 

When  at  sea  half  of  the  crew  of  a  man-of- 
war  is  always  on  duty  and  the  other  half  tak- 
ing a  rest.  The  latter  court  their  ease  in  many 
ways.  Some  stretch  out  on  the  hard  deck  and 
take  a  nap,  others  play  checkers,  spin  yarns, 
write  letters  or  read  novels.  Some  are  lost 
in  reverie;  all  of  them  look  careless  and 
happy  and  nearly  all  of  them  smoke  or  chew 
tobacco.  Music  often  claims  a  group  of  them 
at  any  hour  of  the  day,  and  at  night  dancing 
is  sometimes  indulged  in,  always  with  wild  de- 
light. A  stranger  who  strays  into  the  fore- 
castle observes  that  a  few  of  its  inhabitants 
wear  double-breasted  coats  and  linen  collars. 
These  are  the  men  of  rank  before  the  mast 
and  they  are  known  as  petty  officers.  The 
master-at-arms,  the  machinists  and  the  yeo- 
man are  among  the  chief  of  these,  and  other 
petty  officers  are  the  boatswain's  mates,  gun- 
ner's mates  and  carpenter's  mates.  They  are, 
comparatively  speaking,  high  in  rank  above 
the  rest  of  the  crew  and  are  treated  accord- 
ingly by  the  latter.  They  have  a  mess  table 
by  themselves,  presided  over  by  the  master- 


74  THE    SEA   EOVERS 

at-arms  and  adorned  by  glassware,  crockery 
and  napkins.  All  mess  tables  on  a  ship  are 
large  enough  for  ten  or  fifteen  men  to  sit  at 
and  one  of  the  company  is  selected  by  his 
mates  to  act  as  caterer.  Meals  are  always 
well-behaved  affairs,  particularly  at  the  tables 
of  the  petty  officers,  for  the  sense  of  rank  is  as 
keen  before  the  mast  as  it  is  abaft  among  the 
commissioned  officers.  Every  officer  and  man 
on  a  ship  is  subordinate  or  superior  to  some- 
body else  and  he  cannot  forget  that  his  official 
relations  even  with  his  bosom  companions  are 
among  the  laws  of  the  land.  Nor  do  the  exi- 
gencies of  confined  space  interfere  with  this 
sense  of  rank.  A  bluejacket  may  have  to 
dodge  around  an  admiral  and  give  orders 
under  his  nose,  but  there  is  still  a  gulf  between 
them  not  to  be  bridged  by  any  man. 

In  a  visit  to  the  forecastle  among  all  the 
crowd  there  the  youngest  sailors  and  the  ap- 
prentice boys  are  those  that  attract  one  the 
most.  Their  alert,  intelligent  faces  give  one 
a  pleasant  idea  of  the  coming  American  man- 
of-warsman  and  attest  the  efficacy  of  the 


THE  MAN-OF-WARSMAN  75 

method  employed  to  fit  them  for  their  future 
career.  The  present  naval  apprentice  sys- 
tem of  the  United  States  has  been  in  force 
since  1875.  The  candidate  for  an  apprentice- 
ship must  be  from  fourteen  to  eighteen  years 
of  age,  of  robust  frame,  intelligent,  of  sound 
and  healthy  constitution  and  able  to  read  and 
write.  The  boy  who  is  found  to  be  qualified 
signs  an  agreement  to  serve  continuously  un- 
til he  is  twenty-one  years  of  age  and  is  sent  to 
the  training  station  at  Coaster's  Harbor  Isl- 
and, near  Newport,  where  is  anchored  a  re- 
ceiving ship  capable  of  comfortably  accom- 
modating 500  apprentices.  The  boys  sleep  in 
hammocks,  assist  in  keeping  the  ship  clean 
and  in  various  ways  are  gradually  accustomed 
to  a  nautical  life.  The  daily  routine  begins 
at  5 :30,  when  reveille  is  sounded  and  all  ham- 
mocks are  lashed  and  stowed.  After  an  early 
breakfast  the  boys  wash  their  clothes,  scrub 
decks  and  bathe,  and  then  for  about  six  hours 
are  daily  occupied  with  drills  and  studies,  the 
course  of  instruction  including  gunnery,  sea- 
manship and  English.    The  hours  after  sup- 


76  THE    SEA   EOVERS 

per  until  9  o'clock,  when  all  must  be  in  their 
hammocks,  and  Saturday  afternoons  are 
given  up  to  recreation.  Many  kinds  of  games 
are  furnished  the  boys,  and  they  have  also 
free  access  to  a  good  library. 

Each  apprentice  on  leaving  Coaster's  Har- 
bor Island  spends  a  year  on  a  training  ship 
and  is  then  transferred  to  a  regular  man-of- 
war.  Here  his  education  is  still  continued, 
and  the  end  of  his  enlistment  generally  finds 
him  thoroughly  acquainted  with  a  modern 
ship  and  her  armanent  and  fitted  to  take  the 
billet  of  a  petty  officer.  Many  of  the  appren- 
tices who  re-enlist  are  sent  to  the  Washington 
Navy  Yard  for  a  six  months'  course  of  in- 
struction in  gunnery,  a  limited  number  being 
afterward  detailed  to  the  Naval  War  College 
at  Newport  for  an  equal  length  of  time  to  be 
given  a  practical  knowledge  of  electricity  and 
torpedoes.  They  then  graduate  into  the  ser- 
vice with  the  rank  and  pay  of  seamen-gunners, 
and  that  the  training  they  have  received  war- 
rants its  cost  is  proved  by  the  assertion  of 
experts  that  American  gunners  have  not  their 


A   MAN-OF-WARSMAX 


THE  MAN-OF-WARSMAN  77 

superior  in  any  navy  of  the  world.  The  mak- 
ing of  an  American  man-of-warsman  is  a  pro- 
cess worth  while. 

In  peaceful  times  one  day  is  very  much  like 
another  on  an  American  man-of-war,  but 
there  are  four  days  of  special  importance  in 
the  calendar  of  the  bluejacket  serving  thereon. 
These  are  general  muster  day,  general  inspec- 
tion day  and  Thanksgiving  and  Christmas 
days.  The  first-named  marks  the  observance 
of  a  ceremony  of  great  importance  to  the  par- 
ticipants— the  reading  of  the  articles  of  war 
or  rules  which  have  been  framed  for  the  gov- 
ernment of  the  navy.  Unlike  other  musters 
and  routine  drills  which  take  place  day  after 
day  with  the  utmost  regularity,  this  function 
is  observed  not  oftener  than  once  a  month. 
On  most  ships  the  first  Sunday  of  each  month 
is  reserved  for  this  purpose,  but  it  frequently 
happens  that  two  or  three  months  elapse  be- 
tween one  general  muster  and  the  next. 
Shortly  before  10  o'clock  in  the  morning  of 
the  day  selected  the  chief  boatswain's  mate 
passes  the  order   through  the  ship  of  "All 


78  THE    SEA  EOVERS 

hands  to  muster."  At  once  every  soul  on  the 
vessel  except  the  sick  and,  if  at  sea,  half  a 
dozen  others  who  cannot  be  spared  from  the 
wheel  and  engine  room  repairs  aft  to  the 
quarterdeck,  where  the  members  of  the  crew 
range  themselves  in  long  ranks  on  the  port 
side  of  the  deck,  facing  the  officers,  who  stand 
in  a  line  on  the  starboard  side,  where  they 
are  placed  according  to  rank,  with  the  senior 
officer  aft.  All  the  officers  are  in  full  dress, 
with  cocked  hat  and  epaulettes  and  gold  lace 
on  coats  and  trousers,  while  the  men  must  ap- 
pear in  their  best,  with  shoes  polished  and 
clothes  well  brushed. 

When  the  last  straggler  has  taken  his  place 
the  senior  lieutenant,  raising  a  white-gloved 
hand  to  his  cocked  hat,  salutes  the  captain 
and  informs  him  that  all  his  officers  and  men 
are  ' '  up  and  aft. ' '  After  this,  by  order  of  the 
officer  of  the  deck,  silence  reigns.  At  a  word 
from  the  commander  the  senior  lieutenant 
begins  to  read  the  articles  of  war,  and  as  he 
does  so  all  heads  are  uncovered.  Simple  yet 
eloquent  is  this  expression  of  the  faith  in 


THE  MAN-OF-WARSMAN  79 

which  every  naval  officer  must  live.  "The 
commanders  of  all  fleets,  squadrons,  naval 
stations  and  vessels  belonging  to  the  navy,,, 
runs  the  wording  of  the  first  article,  ' '  are  re- 
quired to  show  in  themselves  a  good  example 
of  virtue,  honor,  patriotism  and  subordina- 
tion/?  The  second  article  earnestly  recom- 
mends all  officers  and  seamen  in  the  naval 
service  diligently  to  attend  on  every  perform- 
ance of  the  worship  of  Almighty  God.  Fur- 
ther on  is  another  article  which  informs  every 
listener — and  every  one  of  the  hundreds  as- 
sembled is  an  intent  listener — that  "the  pun- 
ishment of  death  or  such  other  punishment 
as  a  court-martial  may  adjudge  may  be  in- 
flicted on  any  person  in  the  naval  service  who 
enters  into  a  mutiny  or  who  disobeys  the  law- 
ful orders  of  his  superior  officer  or  who  strikes 
the  flag  to  an  enemy  or  rebel."  The  same 
penalty  awaits  any  one  who  in  time  of  war 
deserts  or  who  sleeps  upon  his  watch,  or  who 
when  in  battle  "displays  cowardice,  negli- 
gence or  disaffection  or  keeps  out  of  danger  to 
which  he  should  expose  himself."    These  of- 


80  THE    SEA   EOVEES 

fenses  are  only  a  few  of  the  many  which  all 
wearers  of  the  uniform  are  enjoined  not  to 
commit.  Some  of  the  others  are  "  profane 
swearing,  falsehood,  drunkenness,  gambling, 
fraud,  theft  or  any  other  scandalous  conduct 
tending  to  the  destruction  of  good  morals ;" 
and  it  also  is  forbidden  to  any  one  to  be  guilty 
of  cruelty  toward  any  person  subject  to  his 
orders.  Other  parts  of  the  articles  contain 
similar  injunctions  to  all  in  the  navy  to  main- 
tain the  honor  of  the  flag  and  the  integrity  of 
their  lives. 

As  a  f  ructifier  of  patriotism  the  importance 
of  this  ceremony  cannot  be  easily  overesti- 
mated. Lukewarmness  has  no  place  in  its 
presence,  and  any  one  who  witnesses  it  cannot 
fail  to  be  impressed  by  its  disclosure  of  a  faith 
that  one  feels  sure  could  remove  mountains. 
In  remote  lands  it  is  a  rite  which  borrows 
added  seriousness  from  its  foreign  surround- 
ings. Its  words  have  often  echoed  against 
the  walls  of  foreign  forts  while  a  Sabbath 
calm  has  brooded  over  the  latter  and  robbed 
them  of  their  threatening  aspect,  and  many  a 


THE  MAN-OF-WARSMAN     .      81 

time  during  its  performance  American  sailors 
have  been  able  to  look  up  from  their  quarter- 
decks to  the  cottages  and  fields  of  some  other 
land  where  a  different  creed  is  held  and  with 
just  as  strong  a  faith  as  their  own.  No  one 
can  doubt  that  while  this  ceremony  lives  the 
country  is  stronger  and  safer  than  it  would  be 
without  it. 

The  reading  of  the  articles  of  war  consumes 
a  scant  quarter  hour.  When  it  is  finished  the 
order  is  given  and  repeated  by  the  boat- 
swain's mate  for  all  petty  officers  to  muster 
in  the  starboard  gangway.  They  form  in  two 
long  ranks.  At  the  end  nearest  the  quarter- 
deck stands  the  master-at-arms  and  then  come 
yeoman,  writers,  machinists,  the  apothecary, 
printer,  painter,  electrician,  bandmaster, 
boatswain's  mate,  gunner's  mates,  quarter- 
masters, oilers,  water  tenders  and  ship's  cor- 
porals. The  paymaster  or  his  clerk  starts  to 
muster  the  crew,  calling  out  each  man's  full 
name,  and  the  latter  answers  with  his  rating. 
When  the  petty  officers  are  all  mustered  they 
are  allowed  to  leave  and  go  forward — always 


82  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

being  cautioned  to  keep  quiet.  Then  follows 
a  scene  that  reminds  one  of  the  early  days  of 
the  navy — a  custom  more  than  a  century  old 
and  borrowed  originally  from  the  English.  It 
is  called  "going  around  the  mast.,,  When 
each  man's  name  is  called  he  answers  with  his 
rating,  removes  his  cap,  walks  around  the 
mast  to  the  starboard  side  and  goes  forward. 
This  is  kept  up  until  all  seamen,  ordinary  sea- 
men, landsmen,  coal  heavers,  firemen  and 
bandsmen  have  passed  under  the  inspection 
of  the  captain,  who  stands  near  the  mainmast 
intently  watching  and  forming  an  opinion  of 
each  man  as  he  passes  before  him.  When  all 
have  gone  forward  the  order  is  given  by  the 
executive  officer  to  "pipe  down,"  the  shrill 
whistles  sound  and  general  muster  is  over. 

General  inspection  day  on  a  man-of-war 
usually  follows  close  upon  the  termination  of 
a  foreign  cruise  and  involves  no  end  of  labor 
on  the  part  of  officers  and  crew.  In  the  early 
morning  of  the  day  appointed  the  last  touches 
are  given  to  the  ship  's  bright  metal  work,  the 
last  rubs  to  its  great  brown  guns.    The  decks 


THE  MAN-OF-WARSMAN  83 

are  scrubbed  and  holystoned,  so  that  the  keen 
eye  of  the  executive  officer  cannot  find  a  spot. 
The  bluejackets  give  a  last  turn  to  their  ham- 
mocks and  a  last  pat  to  their  kits,  for  not  a 
thing  will  escape  the  scrutiny  of  the  board  of 
inspection  and  survey.  When  the  members 
of  that  body  appear  they  find  waiting  for 
them  on  the  main  deck  the  whole  crew,  spick 
and  span,  with  their  kits,  long  canvas  bags 
containing  their  white  and  blue  clothing  done 
up  in  neat  rolls.  While  a  part  of  the  board 
examines  these  to  see  if  any  of  the  men  have 
failed  to  roll  them  properly  the  other  mem- 
bers go  below  to  inspect  the  ship.  They  visit 
the  wardroom,  staterooms  and  forecastle ;  ex- 
amine the  water-tight  compartments,  the  boil- 
ers, engines,  bunkers  and  magazines  and  the 
wood  and  metal  work,  passing  over  no  dark 
corner  in  gallery  or  pantry  in  which  may  lurk 
dirt  or  other  signs  of  neglect. 

All  this,  however,  is  preliminary  to  the  real 
labors  of  the  day,  for  when  the  members  of 
the  board  of  inspection  have  again  assembled 
on  deck  comes  the   eagerly   expected  order, 


84  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

"Clear  the  ship  for  action!"  Instantly  the 
long  roll  is  beaten,  the  boatswain's  whistle 
sounds,  and  from  the  bowels  of  the  ship  the 
members  of  the  crew  come  tumbling  out, 
swarming  over  the  deck  in  what  seems  the 
wildest  confusion,  but  is  in  reality  perfect 
order.  Every  man  has  certain  duties  and 
much  drilling  has  taught  him  how  to  perform 
them  in  the  simplest,  readiest  and  easiest 
manner.  The  whole  deck  crew  is  organized 
into  divisions  and  each  division  has  its  sep- 
arate and  particular  work.  One  division 
lashes  fast  the  big  anchors  and  makes  them 
as  secure  as  possible.  Another  takes  care  of 
the  boats.  The  spare  spars  are  got  out  and 
lashed  together.  The  boats  are  lashed  into  a 
nest,  plugs  pulled  out  so  that  they  will  fill  with 
water  and  float  with  gunwales  awash.  The 
nest  is  lashed  to  the  spars  that  will  serve  as  a 
drag  and  a  buoy  to  mark  their  location,  and 
then  spars  and  boats  are  put  over  the  side 
and  left  to  drift  as  they  will. 

While  this  is  going  on  other  divisions  are 
at  work  with  the  rail  and  awning  stanchions. 


THE  MAN-OF-WARSMAN  85 

Every  thing  comes  down.  The  pegs  are 
knocked  out  of  the  davit  hinges  and  the  big 
iron  bars  are  folded  over  to  the  deck.  Every- 
thing movable  that  can  be  put  out  of  the  way 
is  stowed  in  its  proper  pace  swiftly  and 
silently.  The  battle  gratings  are  brought  out 
and  fitted  over  the  hatches.  Any  thing  that 
might  be  knocked  to  pieces  by  a  shell  or  shot 
to  splinters  by  small  fire  is  carried  below,  and 
when  the  work  is  finished  not  a  superfluous 
bar  or  beam,  not  an  extra  rod,  box,  implement 
or  article  of  any  sort  stands  on  the  deck  to 
cumber  the  desperate  work  of  the  ship  in  her 
life  and  death  struggle. 

At  the  same  time  the  powder  magazines  are 
opened  and  the  great  guns  swing  around  for 
action,  shot  and  shell  piled  up  about  them. 
The  tops  are  manned;  every  small  gun  is 
ready  with  its  crew  to  hurl  a  deluge  of  mis- 
siles of  all  shapes  and  sizes ;  rifles,  pistols  and 
cutlasses  are  served  out  to  the  men,  and  in 
the  space  of  time  it  costs  to  write  these  lines 
the  ship  lies  at  anchor  ready  to  blow  an  ad- 


86  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

versary  off  the  face  of  the  water  or  to  be 
blown  off  herself. 

With  the  ship  cleared  for  action,  there  is 
drill  at  the  great  gnns  and  execution  of  the 
order  to  repel  boarders.  After  this  the  ship  is 
again  put  in  condition  and  the  bugle  sounds 
to  quarters.  The  ship's  bell  has  struck  the 
alarm  for  fire.  In  a  trice  long  lines  of  hose 
are  laid  and  men  hurry  around  with  their  ex- 
tinguishers on  their  backs.  The  "smother- 
ers,"  with  their  hammocks,  are  ready  for 
work,  axmen  are  stationed  to  cut  away  wood- 
work and  sentinels  are  posted  prepared  to 
flood  the  magazines.  There  is  neither  hitch 
nor  break  in  the  drill,  and  at  its  conclusion 
the  men  go  to  their  well-earned  noonday 
meal. 

After  dinner  the  marines  are  ordered  to 
land  and  attack  a  distant  fort.  The  boats  are 
lowered  away  and  provisioned  for  several 
days.  Water,  beef,  beans,  cartridges,  rifles, 
guns  and  boxes  of  tools  are  stowed  away  in 
them,  and  then  the  men  pile  into  them  until 
it  seems  as  if  they  must  sink  under  their  load. 


THE  MAN-OF-WARSMAN  87 

Many  colored  flags  flutter  from  the  mainyard 
of  the  big  ship,  the  launches  take  the  boats  in 
tow  and  off  they  start.  They  do  not  go  far, 
however,  for  soon  a  signal  from  the  ship 
countermands  the  order  to  attack  and  they  re- 
turn and  are  hauled  on  board.  Then  comes  a 
drill  that  is  looked  upon  with  regretful  pride 
by  the  old  tars  who  still  love  the  shapely  ships 
of  the  past  and  cannot  overcome  their  dislike 
for  the  modern  ' '  teakettles ; ' '  it  is  a  sail  drill. 
The  sailors  scamper  aloft,  lay  out  on  the  big 
yards  and  soon  the  ship,  with  all  sails  set,  is 
tugging  at  her  anchors.  Again  the  boat- 
swain's whistle  sounds.  The  executive  officer, 
trumpet  in  hand,  shouts  his  orders  and  the 
yards  gradually  come  down  until  the  ship  is 
under  close-reefed  topsails.  Then  the  sails 
are  furled,  the  yards  squared  and  the  men 
wait  for  the  next  command.  They  do  not  have 
to  wait  long.  A  luckless  man — imaginary,  of 
course — falls  overboard.  There  is  another 
hurry  and  scurry,  a  life  buoy  is  thrown  to  the 
drowning  man,  the  cutter  is  lowered  away  and 
under  the  powerful  strokes  of  six  oars  sweeps 


88  THE    SEA   KOVEBS 

past  the  ship  to  the  rescue.  The  man  is  saved 
and  the  cutter  again  hoisted  on  board.  This 
ends  the  work  of  the  day  and  all  hands  are 
piped  to  snpper.  Soon  the  sunset  gun  booms, 
once  more  the  bugle  sounds  and  the  great 
striped  flag  at  the  stern  comes  down.  General 
inspection  day  is  over. 

The  crew  of  an  American  warship  celebrate 
Thanksgiving  day  in  the  good  old-fashioned 
style,  which  means  that  the  dinner  is  made 
the  chief  incident.  About  this  all  the  interest 
of  the  holiday  gathers,  and  the  feast  is  en- 
joyed in  anticipation,  in  realization  and  in 
reminiscence.  The  expense  of  the  extras 
which  supplement  the  ordinary  rations  on 
that  occasion  is  borne  entirely  by  the  men. 
Ordinarily  Jack  is  a  most  improvident  crea- 
ture who  sees  no  reason  for  worrying  himself 
about  what  he  is  to  eat  to-morrow  so  long  as 
he  has  enough  for  to-day,  but  for  Thanksgiv- 
ing and  Christmas  he  makes  unusual  effort 
to  save  something  to  put  into  the  common 
fund  for  the  occasion.  His  comrades  are  gen- 
erous, however,  and  if,  as  often  happens,  his 


THE  MAN-OF-WARSMAN  89 

pockets  are  light  when  the  contributions  are 
being  taken  up  he  is  not  allowed  to  miss  the 
feast,  but  may  have  his  share  charged  up 
against  him,  to  be  paid  at  a  more  convenient 
season. 

One  way  in  which  the  men  save  their  money 
is  by  commuting  their  rations.  The  amount 
of  food  furnished  by  the  government  is  ex- 
tremely liberal,  so  that  the  daily  ration  pro- 
vided for  each  sailor  is  more  than  he  can  eat 
under  ordinary  circumstances.  The  value  of 
a  daily  ration  is  put  at  30  cents.  A  common 
practice  is  for  ten  men  to  draw  rations  for 
only  seven.  If  the  mess  consists  of  thirty  men 
the  value  of  the  commuted  rations  would  thus 
amount  to  $2.70  a  day.  This  is  multiplied  by 
the  time  pay  day  comes  around  to  a  consider- 
able sum  and  is  paid  back  to  the  men  with 
their  wages.  Part  of  it  at  a  time  like  Thanks- 
giving is  devoted  to  buying  the  luxuries  of  the 
dinner. 

The  fund  kept  or  raised  for  this  purpose 
has  always  been  known  as  the  " slush  fund." 
The  term  dates  back  to  the  early  days  of  the 


90  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

navy  when  the  men  were  allowed  to  save  the 
pork  drippings  and  other  grease,  odd  ends  of 
rope  and  all  kinds  of  waste  about  the  ship  and 
sell  them  to  junk  dealers  for  whatever  they 
could  get.  "Slush"  was  the  general  name 
given  to  the  waste  stuff  and  the  money  which 
it  brought  in  was  the  ' '  slush  fund. ' '  This  dis- 
position of  the  refuse  is  now  taken  out  of  the 
mens'  hands,  but  they  still  continue  to  call 
their  dinner  fund  by  its  ancient  title. 

A  Thanksgiving  dinner  among  the  men-of- 
warsmen  is  a  festivity  well  worth  seeing. 
Nothing  is  done  by  halves,  and  the  messroom 
decorations  and  the  table  furnishings  would 
do  credit  to  many  a  more  pretentious  assem- 
bly. The  messrooms  are  brightly  lighted 
up  and  their  usually  bare  walls  are  gayly 
draped  with  American  flags.  Instead  of 
the  every-day  enamel  cloth  the  tables  are 
covered  with  spotless  white  linen.  If  the  ship 
is  in  port  the  celebration  can  be  much  more 
elaborate,  because  the  men  are  then  able  fo 
buy,  beg  or  borrow  from  their  friends  on 
shore  any  number  of  ornamental  articles  with 


THE  MAN-OF-WARSMAN  91 

which  to  beautify  the  tables.  Vases  of  flowers 
are  artistically  arranged  about,  and  a  great 
cake  with  a  fanciful  superstructure  of  icing  is 
a  favorite  adornment.  Enormous  turkeys 
stand  watch  at  each  end  of  the  tables  at  the 
beginning  of  the  feast,  but  they  disappear 
early  in  the  action  and  their  places  are  taken 
later  by  relays  of  mince  and  pumpkin  pies. 
' '  Spuds, ' '  as  all  sailors  call  potatoes,  are  plen- 
tiful, affording  ample  proof  of  Jack's  tra- 
ditional fondness  for  this  vegetable.  Besides 
tea  and  coffee  the  only  drink  is  beer.  The  men 
are  allowed  to  have  this  not  only  on  special 
occasions,  by  the  way,  but  at  any  time  when 
they  have  money  to  pay  for  it  at  the  general 
canteen.  At  dinner  time  on  almost  any  day 
a  few  of  the  men  may  be  seen  with  open 
bottles  of  beer  before  their  places  at  the 
table. 

However,  after  all  is  said  and  done,  Christ- 
mas is  the  rarest  day  in  the  naval  calendar, 
the  celebration  in  American  fashion  being 
never  neglected  on  a  United  States  man-of- 
war  in  port  or  at  sea.   The  ship  is  dressed 


92  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

fore  and  aft  with  banners,  and  in  port  her 
decks  are  piled  with  green  stuff.  In  any  of 
the  ports  in  low  latitudes,  like  Callao  or  Mon- 
tevideo, the  mass  of  palms  and  ferns  dis- 
tributed on  Christmas  on  the  spar  deck  of  a 
warship  gives  the  vessel  a  lovely  holiday  ap- 
pearance. Bluejackets  always  hang  up  their 
socks  on  Christmas  eve.  Each  takes  a  new 
pair  out  of  his  ditty  bag  and  strings  it  to  the 
foot  last  of  his  hammock.  Examined  in  the 
morning,  they  are  commonly  found  filled  with 
fine,  dusty  coal,  lumps  of  salt-water  soap  or 
pieces  of  broken  candle,  but  their  owners  hang 
them  up  from  year  to  year,  willing  to  sacrifice 
a  pair  of  socks  to  the  perpetuation  of  the  cus- 
tom. On  Christmas  day  there  are  all  manner 
of  games  on  the  spar  deck.  They  are  for  the 
most  part  humorous  games  and  are  devised 
chiefly  for  the  amusement  of  the  men  who 
through  misconduct  are  not  permitted  to 
spend  the  day  ashore.  In  the  evening  there 
is  always  some  good  music  in  the  forecastle 
or  on  the  berth  deck.  On  some  ships  the  blue- 
jackets essay  the  most  ambitious  airs,  and  if 


THE  MAN-OF-WARSMAN  93 

the  bandmaster  takes  care  to  put  the  singers 
of  the  crew  on  the  right  path  one  of  their 
Christmas  night  concerts  is  worth  going  a 
long  way  to  hear. 


CHAPTER  IV 

SOLDIERS    WHO    SERVE    AFLOAT 

Soldiers  who  serve  afloat — such  are  the  men 
composing  the  United  States  Marine  Corps. 
Lack  of  military  qualities  in  the  sailor  led  to 
the  corps'  formation  in  the  first  days  of  the 
navy,  nor  has  the  passing  of  the  years 
wrought  any  material  change  in  the  character 
of  Jack  Tar.  Formidable  in  impetuous  as- 
saults, he  lacks  the  steadiness  and  discipline 
necessary  in  sustained  conflicts  and  in  the 
effective  use  of  the  rifle,  and  so  with  the 
navy's  growth  the  Marine  Corps  has  come  to 
constitute  one  of  its  most  important  branches. 
The  marines  are  useful  in  times  of  peace 
for  police  duty  in  the  navy  yards  and  on  ship- 
board, but  it  is  when  the  country  is  engaged 
in  war  that  they  most  fully  justify  their  ex- 

94 


SOLDIERS  SERVING  AFLOAT     95 

istence.  Then  it  is  their  duty  to  man  the 
rapid-firing  guns  of  our  warships,  fill  vacan- 
cies at  the  other  guns,  with  their  rifles  scour 
the  decks  of  the  enemy  from  the  tops,  the 
poop  and  the  forecastle,  cover  boarding  par- 
ties with  their  fire  and  repel  boarders  with 
fixed  bayonets.  Should  the  enemy  gain  a 
foothold  they  must  gather  at  the  mainmast, 
so  as  to  command  the  deck.  They  must  make 
the  small  arms  effective  and  disable  the 
enemy's  men  while  the  great  guns,  with  which 
the  marines  have  nothing  to  do  save  in  case  of 
emergency,  play  havoc  with  his  ship. 

However,  all  naval  fighting,  as  recent 
events  have  proved,  is  not  done  on  the  decks 
of  men-of-war ;  the  surprise  of  camps  or  posts 
and  the  escalade  of  forts  frequently  render 
shore  operations  necessary,  and  at  such  times 
picked  men  are  sent  with  the  attacking  sail- 
ors, known  as  pioneers,  while  the  rest  of  the 
marines  form  a  supporting  column  to  cover 
the  retreat  and  embarkation  of  the  sailors  in; 
case  the  undertaking  fails.  In  times  of  fire 
on  shipboard  the  marines  guard  the  boats' 


96  THE   SEA  ROVERS 

falls  and  officers'  quarters,  prevent  panic  or 
pillage,  compel  compliance  with  orders  of  offi- 
cers and  allow  no  one  to  throw  overboard  any 
property  or  fitting  or  abandon  the  ship  until 
duly  authorized.  Finally  a  frequent  duty  of 
the  marines  abroad  is  to  guard  the  American 
legations  and  consulates  and  the  interests  of 
American  citizens  in  times  of  revolution  or 
public  disorder. 

With  duties  so  varied  and  exacting  ahead 
of  him,  the  making  of  a  marine  is  a  process 
well  worth  studying.  Recruits  for  the  corps 
come  from  all  stations  of  life.  In  its  ranks 
may  be  found  well-educated  men,  now  and 
then  a  college  graduate  among  them,  who  have 
become  reduced  by  misfortune  or  bibulous 
habits,  country  boys  who  have  left  the  farm 
for  the  city  to  seek  their  fortunes  and  found 
want  instead,  and  men  who  have  lost  their 
occupations.  All  find  a  refuge  in  the  corps, 
provided  they  are  physically  and  mentally 
sound,  at  least  five  feet  six  inches  in  height, 
between  the  ages  of  eighteen  and  thirty-five, 
unmarried  and  of  good  habits. 


SOLDIERS  SERVING  AFLOAT      97 

The  recruit  as  an  essential  part  of  his  train- 
ing must  learn  how  to  do  well  many  different 
things.  He  begins,  if  a  stranger  to  military 
science,  by  mastering  the  drills  and  manual 
of  arms  and  every  evolution  possible  to  a 
body  of  men  on  foot,  since  he  must  leave  the 
ship  when  there  is  work  to  be  done  and  be  able 
to  move  quickly  and  with  precision  under  the 
most  galling  fire.  The  ax,  the  shovel  and  the 
pick  must  also  become  familiar  tools  in  his 
hands,  and  that  he  may  fight  to  the  best  pos- 
sible advantage  he  is  taught  to  delve  and  heap 
until  a  breastwork  is  built.  After  that  he 
must  accustom  himself  to  the  dragging  straps 
of  a  light  artillery  piece  and  learn  how  to 
haul  it  at  a  breakneck  pace  down  into  the 
ditch  he  has  dug  and  up  on  the  other  side  to 
the  crown  of  the  intrenchment.  Then,  as  no 
one  else  comes  up  to  load,  aim  and  fire  it  for 
him,  he  must  learn  all  that  a  field  artilleryman 
knows  and  become  skillful  in  the  handling  and 
quick  and  sure  in  the  aim  of  his  howitzer. 

When  so  much  of  his  apprenticeship  has 
been   accomplished   the   marine   climbs  the 


98  THE    SEA   EOVERS 

ship's  side  and  makes  acquaintance  with  his 
duties  as  a  marine  policeman.  The  end  of  the 
first  month  afloat  finds  him  on  guard  at  every 
post  in  the  ship.  He  knows  each  compart- 
ment and  gangway ;  has  been  instructed  in  the 
working  of  the  guns  from  the  heavy  turret 
pieces  to  the  six-pounders;  has  watched  the 
magazines  and  carried  messages  to  the  offi- 
cers, and  has  even  gone  down  to  the  coal  bunk- 
ers, if  the  ship  happens  to  be  coaling  in  a 
hurry,  and  taken  his  turn  at  passing  coal. 

However,  he  is  still  only  a  marine  in  the 
making,  and  this  fact  is  brought  home  to  him 
when  the  ship  goes  out  for  target  practice 
and,  with  a  bluejacket  for  a  teacher,  he  learns 
to  handle  and  supply  ammunition  to  the  lifts 
in  the  magazines  and  to  work  the  lifts  them- 
selves, so  that  when  the  need  comes  he  can 
take  Jack's  place  and  do  his  work.  In  the  old 
days  of  sailing  ships  the  marines  had  to  know 
how  to  splice  a  rope  or  furl  a  sail ;  nowadays 
he  does  not  need  to,  but  he  must  learn  to  make 
his  way  quickly  and  nimbly  to  the  fighting 
tops.     In  doing  so  he  does  not  have  to  climb 


SOLDIERS  SERVING  AFLOAT      99 

to  a  ratline,  one  minute  almost  in  the  sea  and 
the  next  at  the  very  top  of  the  heavens,  but  he 
gets  painfully  dizzy  when  for  the  first  time  he 
feels  the  ship  sinking  away  from  under  him 
as  he  looks  down.  In  the  end  he  masters  that 
also  and,  with  practice,  is  soon  able  to  make 
the  little  guns  in  the  fighting  tops  talk  as  fast 
as  the  best  of  the  jackies.  When  he  has 
learned  to  descend  from  his  aerial  nest  to  the 
deck  at  a  dignified  pace  and  to  land  safely 
upon  his  feet,  his  education  is  practically  com- 
pleted, and  it  has  taken  him  from  six  months 
to  a  year  to  get  it. 

Every  navy  yard  in  the  country  has  its  de- 
tachment of  marines,  but  the  barracks  at  the 
Brooklyn  yard  are  the  most  popular,  and  as 
the  marines  have  their  choice  of  stations  when 
they  return  from  a  cruise,  the  largest  number, 
seldom  less  than  three  hundred,  are  usually 
quartered  there.  In  the  part  of  the  yard  set 
aside  for  the  marines  is  a  long  and  narrow 
building  of  gray  brick,  with  a  piazza  running 
its  entire  length,  shaded  by  a  line  of  trees. 
This  is  the  barracks,  the  living  quarters  of  the 


100  THE    SEA  EOVEES 

men.  A  roomy  parade  ground  stretches  out 
in  front,  and  in  a  group  of  trees  to  the  left, 
with  a  garden  behind,  is  the  house  of  the  com- 
mandant of  marines,  while  at  about  the  same 
distance  to  the  right  are  the  quarters  of  the 
other  officers,  each  approached  by  a  stone 
walk  canopied  and  shaded  by  rows  of  pear 
trees. 

Visit  the  Brooklyn  barracks  of  a  summer 
morning  and  you  will  find  the  marine  there 
in  every  condition  known  to  the  corps  and  in 
every  stage  of  his  development.  Out  on  the 
parade  ground  is  a  squad  of  raw  recruits  be- 
ing commanded  and  marched  about  in  the 
effort  to  trim  off  their  individuality  of  mo- 
tion, and  here  comes  Private  Dougherty,  with 
his  wheelbarrow  and  sickle,  a  bronze-faced 
old  man  who  was  retired  awhile  back  because 
his  thirty  years  of  service  had  been  com- 
pleted. There  is  hardly  a  seaport  in  the  world 
that  Dougherty  is  not  familiar  with,  and  he 
will  tell  you,  when  in  the  mood,  how  he  killed 
the  Corean  general.  The  Colorado,  flagship 
of  Eear  Admiral  Eodgers,  steamed  up  the 


SOLDIERS  SERVING  AFLOAT    101 

Salee  river,  in  Corea,  far  the  purpose  of  ef- 
fecting a  treaty  with  the  Coreans  for  the  pro- 
tection of  shipwrecked  American  sailors  and 
to  make  surveys  and  soundings.  Her  survey 
boats  were  treacherously  fired  upon  by  the 
forts  in  the  river  and  a  fight  began.  After 
one  of  the  forts  had  been  captured  and  its 
former  occupants  driven  out,  Dougherty 
jumped  over  the  parapet,  ran  down  to  where 
the  Corean  leader  was  rallying  his  forces  and 
shot  him  dead.  For  this  service  to  his  coun- 
try Congress  voted  Dougherty  a  medal  of 
honor.    And  well  he  had  earned  it. 

Ashore  or  afloat,  the  daily  life  of  the  marine 
is  one  of  hard  work  and  plenty  of  it.  At  6 :30 
in  the  morning,  when  in  barracks,  the  men 
must  be  out  of  bed  and  ready  fifteen  minutes 
later  for  the  ' '  setting-up ' '  drill,  which  is  gym- 
nastic exercise  without  apparatus.  Then  the 
mess  call  is  sounded  and  they  file  into  the 
long  messroom,  furnished  with  two  tables  ex- 
tending the  whole  length,  and  breakfast  on 
hash,  pork  and  beans  or  beef  stew,  according 
to  the  day  in  the  week,  and  bread  and  coffee. 


102  THE    SEA   ROVEES 

After  breakfast  the  order  is  given,  "To  the 
colors ! ' p  and  the  flag  is  raised  on  the  pole  in 
front  of  the  guardhouse.  Then  the  guards 
take  their  posts  and  the  routine  of  the  day  be- 
gins, reaching  a  climax  at  10 :30  o'clock,  the 
hour  of  dress  parade,  when  the  marines  are 
out  in  full  force. 

Each  remaining  hour  of  the  day  has  its  al- 
lotted duty,  but  every  marine  with  a  clean 
record  has  twenty  hours  out  of  every 
forty-eight  to  himself.  Many  of  the  marines 
stationed  at  the  Brooklyn  yard  spend  their 
idle  hours  in  the  library,  a  light,  airy  room  on 
the  second  floor  of  the  barracks,  furnished 
with  a  goodly  collection  of  books  and  with  a 
number  of  the  weekly  and  monthly  maga- 
zines. But  as  to  the  books,  some  of  the  most 
assiduous  readers  know  the  contents  of  them 
all,  and  long  for  more.  Nor  need  the  private 
of  marines  end  his  life  in  the  ranks  unless  he 
be  so  minded.  A  school  is  provided  for  him 
where,  if  he  elects  to  do  so,  he  may  conquer 
fractions  and  cube  root,  and  in  time,  after  his 
studies  have  raised  him  to  the  grade  of  ser- 


SOLDIERS  SERVING  AFLOAT    103 

geant-major  in  the  ranks,  should  there  chance 
to  come  a  war  the  line  is  open  to  him,  and  once 
his  ivory-hilted  officer's  sword  and  gold  lace 
are  worn  he  has  the  entree  to  any  officers' 
mess  and  a  place  that  no  man  but  one  of  his 
own  line  can  fill.  That  the  men  in  the  ranks 
who  choose  to  employ  their  leisure  hours  in 
study  get  their  reward  was  proven  in  the 
war  with  Spain,  which  raised  no  less  than 
thirty  sergeant-majors  to  the  dignity  of  shoul- 
der straps. 

The  dominant  desire  of  the  ambitious 
young  marine  is,  of  course,  to  get  to  sea.  The 
work  there  is  harder  than  in  the  barracks,  but 
he  does  not  consider  that  when  he  thinks  of 
life  afloat  and  the  foreign  ports  to  which  it 
will  take  him.  During  his  five  years'  enlist- 
ment in  the  corps  each  capable  marine  makes 
two  sea  voyages,  extending  over  a  period  of 
three  years.  On  shipboard  the  shore  drills 
are  continued  as  far  as  practicable  and  to 
them,  as  already  hinted,  is  added  target  prac- 
tice. His  time  off  duty  the  marine  spends  in 
the  forecastle  and  amidships  reading,  sleep- 


104  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

ing,  writing  up  his  diary  or  twanging  the 
strings  of  his  favorite  instrument,  the  guitar. 

The  things  which  chiefly  occupy  his 
thoughts,  however,  are  rations  and  going 
ashore.  As  to  the  former,  they  are  consider- 
ably better  than  he  gets  at  the  barracks  and 
may  be  augmented  from  the  bumboats — a 
genuine  boon  to  the  luxury-loving  marines. 
These  bumboats  approach  the  men-of-war  at 
every  port  with  articles  of  utility  and  food  in 
great  profusion,  and  the  American  marine 
has  a  worldwide  reputation  among  their  pro- 
prietors for  his  generosity.  Ah  Sam,  of  the 
port  of  Hong  Kong,  the  greatest  man  in  the 
world  in  his  line,  whose  boats  are  fifty  and 
sixty  ton  junks,  is  said  to  have  made  his  for- 
tune from  sales  to  American  men-of-war.  At 
any  rate,  when  one  enters  or  leaves  the  harbor 
he  fires  a  salute  of  twenty-one  guns. 

And  it  is  only  fair  that  the  marine  should 
have  a  salute  fired  on  his  own  account  now 
and  then,  for  he  is  a  leading  and  important 
figure  in  all  the  pomp  and  ceremony  of  man- 
of-war  life.    Indeed,  it  is  an  interesting  and 


SOLDIERS  SERVING  AFLOAT    105 

pretty  sight  to  watch  the  ceremonies  which 
take  place  on  board  ship  on  the  arrival  of  a 
high  official,  such  as  an  ambassador,  an  ad- 
miral, a  general  or  a  consul.  As  the  cutter 
dashes  up  to  the  side  with  spray  flying  from 
the  oars  the  ship's  bugle  sounds  "Attention." 
The  side  boys  offer  the  man  ropes  as  the  offi- 
cial steps  on  the  gangway  and  the  captain 
receives  him  as  he  steps  on  the  quarterdeck. 
As  the  two  walk  aft  the  marine  officer,  in 
quick,  sharp  tones,  commands,  "Present 
arms,"  and  the  whole  marine  guard,  drawn 
up  in  line  on  the  port  side  of  the  quarterdeck, 
bring  their  rifles  up  in  salute,  while  the  bugle 
sounds  a  flourish  and  the  drum  a  roll,  two  for 
an  admiral,  three  for  an  ambassador  and 
four  for  the  President.  The  marines  on  a 
ship  are  collectively  called  the  guard;  the 
ceremony  is  called  parading  the  guard.  It 
takes  place  on  the  arrival  or  departure  of  any 
official  of  rank.  If  the  official  does  not  visit 
the  ship  it  takes  place  when  his  flag  passes 
by,  and  it  also  takes  place  when  two  ships  of 
war  pass  each  other. 


106  THE    SEA   EOVERS 

The  landsman  visiting  an  American  war- 
ship finds  the  marine  everywhere  in  evidence. 
At  the  door  of  the  captain's  cabin  stands  a 
marine,  doing  duty  as  an  orderly,  and  no  one 
can  enter  that  officer's  presence  until  he  has 
first  taken  in  the  name.  Down  below  a  marine 
guards  the  storage  rooms,  and  up  on  the  berth 
deck  another  stands  sentry  over  the  torpe- 
does, while  still  farther  along  on  the  same 
deck  is  the  "sentry  over  the  brig,"  for  the 
brig,  be  it  known,  is  the  ship 's  prison,  where, 
in  complete  solitude  and  on  a  bread  and 
water  diet,  an  offender  can  meditate  and  see 
the  error  of  his  ways.  Finally  in  the  crowded 
forecastle  the  marine  keeps  order  among  the 
crew  and  an  occasional  eye  on  that  fishing 
boat  floating  down  with  the  tide,  for  Jack 
sometimes  goes  fishing  and  makes  queer 
hauls.  With  a  coin  as  a  bait,  he  drops  over 
his  line,  gets  a  nibble,  hauls  in  a  little  brown 
bottle — and  does  not  show  his  catch  to  the 
sentry. 

The  marines,  in  a  word,  do  the  sentry  duty 
of  the  ship,  but  this  does  not  prevent  these  sea 


SOLDIERS  SERVING  AFLOAT    107 

soldiers  and  the  sailors  from  getting  on  well 
together.  Occasionally,  a  marine  recruit,  just 
assigned  to  a  ship,  will  develop  symptoms  of 
a  disease  known  as  "duty  struck,"  and  blind- 
ly lay  the  foundation  for  years  of  unpop- 
ularity for  himself  by  taking  advantage  of  his 
authority  to  make  it  as  warm  as  he  can  for 
the  blue  jackets,  but  such  a  recruit  is  quickly 
called  to  order  by  the  older  men  of  the  guard. 
As  a  rule,  the  marines  and  blue  jackets  are 
on  the  most  friendly  terms,  and  there  are  few 
liberty  parties  of  blue  jackets  bound  for  a 
good  time  ashore  that  are  not  accompanied 
by  a  favorite  marine  or  two,  invited  along  to 
help  the  sailormen  dispose  of  their  money, 
for,  out  of  his  $13  a  month,  the  marine  does 
not  have  a  deal  for  shore  use. 

The  guard  duty  performed  by  marines  on 
American  ships  is  of  an  arduous  and  exacting 
kind.  On  some  vessels,  usually  the  smaller 
gunboats,  the  marine  guard  soldier  is  on  post 
for  two  hours,  and  then  gets  only  two  hours 
off  before  buckling  on  his  belt  again,  month 
in  and  month  out.    This  sort  of  thing  involves 


108  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

a  breaking  up  of  sleep  that  tells  severely  on 
marines  serving  on  small  ships,  and  it  is  for 
this  reason  that  sea  soldiers  are  so  partial  to 
flagships,  and  exhaust  all  the  means  in  their 
power  to  be  assigned  to  such  large  vessels  of 
war.  However,  on  every  warship,  no  matter 
what  its  size,  there  is  at  least  one  first-rate 
billet  for  the  private  marine ;  that  is  the  mail 
orderly's  job.  The  mail  orderly  is  the  mes- 
senger between  the  ship  and  the  shore,  at- 
tends to  all  sorts  of  errands  for  officers  and 
men,  and  is  a  general  buyer  of  trinkets  for  all 
hands.  A  good  deal  of  money  passes  through 
his  hands,  and  his  commissions  are  good,  not 
to  speak  of  the  tips  which  are  given  to  him 
for  performing  little  diplomatic  tasks  ashore 
for  the  men  forward.  A  marine  mail  orderly 
usually  leaves  the  service  at  the  expiration 
of  a  cruise  with  a  snug  sum  tucked  away. 

The  first  sergeant  of  a  marine  guard  on  a 
ship  too  small  to  rate  one  or  more  marine 
officers  fills  a  responsible  and  exacting  place, 
and  is  treated  with  great  consideration  by  the 
officers,  since,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  he 


SOLDIERS  SERVING  AFLOAT    109 

is  an  officer  himself.  He  may  go  ashore  when 
he  chooses  without  putting  his  name  down  on 
the  liberty  list,  and  when  he  comes  back  to 
the  ship  from  shore  leave,  he  is  not  searched 
for  liquor,  an  immunity  which  he  enjoys  in 
common  only  with  the  ship  's  chief  master-at- 
arms.  The  first  sergeant  is  responsible  for 
the  conduct  of  his  men,  and,  if  they  do  wrong, 
he  is  reproved  much  as  if  he  were  an  officer. 
For  the  preservation  of  discipline,  he  is  re- 
quired to  hold  himself  aloof  from  the  mem- 
bers of  his  guard  as  much  as  possible,  and  he 
associates  and  frequently  messes  with  the 
ship's  chief  petty  officers. 

Semper  fidelis — always  faithful — is  the 
legend  worn  upon  the  flags,  guidons  and  in- 
signia of  the  Marine  Corps,  and,  in  its  hun- 
dred years  of  existence,  it  has  never  been 
false  to  its  motto.  It  was  one  of  the  orderlies 
of  the  corps,  Corporal  Anthony,  who,  when 
the  Maine  was  sinking,  and  nearly  all  who 
could  do  so  were  hastily  leaving,  made  his 
way  toward  Captain  Sigsbee's  cabin,  and,  on 
meeting  him,  calmly  gave  the  report  the  duty 


110  THE   SEA  EOVEES 

of  the  occasion  required  of  him.  And  this 
quiet  performance  of  duty  in  the  face  of  im- 
pending death,  has  had  a  hundred  parallels  in 
the  history  of  the  Marine  Corps. 

During  the  bombardment  of  Tripoli,  in 
1803,  and  the  desperate  hand-to-hand  fighting 
which  occurred  between  the  vessels  on  both 
sides,  Decatur  boarded  one  of  the  Tripolitan 
gunboats  and  engaged  the  captain  in  a  duel 
with  swords.  One  of  the  enemy  coming  up 
from  behind  was  about  to  cleave  Decatur's 
skull  with  his  sword,  when  a  marine  inter- 
posed his  arm.  The  arm  saved  Decatur,  but 
it  was  severed  to  the  skin.  In  the  same  bat- 
tle, Lieutenant  Trippe,  of  the  Vixen,  boarded 
a  Tripolitan  gunboat  and  singled  out  the  com- 
mander for  a  personal  combat.  A  Turk 
aimed  a  blow  at  the  lieutenant,  but  before  he 
could  strike,  Sergeant  Meredith,  of  the  ma- 
rines, ran  him  through  the  body  with  his 
bayonet.  It  was  also  an  officer  of  marines, 
Lieutenant  O'Bannon,  who,  with  Midshipman 
Mann,  hauled  down  the  Tripolitan  ensign, 
after  having  stormed  the  principal  defense 


SOLDIEES  SERVING  AFLOAT    111 

of  Derne,  and  planted  the  flag  of  the  Republic 
on  that  ancient  fortress. 

The  marines  participated  gallantly  in  the 
War  of  1812,  and  in  the  expedition  against 
Quallah  Battoo,  a  few  years  later,  formed 
the  van  of  the  attacking  party,  and  were  in 
the  thickest  of  the  fight  with  the  Malays.  This 
Quallah  Battoo  expedition  furnished  a  stir- 
ring passage  for  our  naval  history  that  is 
well  worth  recalling.  In  February,  1831,  the 
American  ship  Friendship  was  loading  on  the 
coast  of  Sumatra.  While  the  captain,  two 
officers  and  four  of  the  crew  were  on  shore 
the  Friendship  was  attacked  by  the  crew  of 
a  Malay  pepper  boat,  who,  after  killing  the 
first  officer  and  several  of  the  seamen,  suc- 
ceeded in  cutting  off  the  ship  and  plundering 
her  of  every  article  of  value  on  board.  The 
attack  was  clearly  concerted,  and  the  Achense 
rajah,  Chute  Dulah,  received  the  spoils,  re- 
fusing the  restoration  even  of  the  ship. 

Time  moved  with  leisure  steps  in  those 
days,  but  as  soon  as  news  of  this  wanton  out- 
rage reached  the  United  States,  prompt  meas- 


112  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

ures  were  taken  to  punish  its  authors.  On 
February  5,  1832,  the  frigate  Potomac,  com- 
manded by  Commodore  John  Downes,  an- 
chored off  Quallah  Battoo  and  landed  a  force 
of  250  men  to  attack  the  town.  The  assault- 
ing party,  composed  mainly  of  marines,  did 
its  work  in  a  thorough  and  practical  manner. 
The  town  and  the  four  forts  defending  it  were 
captured  and  destroyed,  and  several  hundred 
Malays  killed,  including  the  rajah  chiefly  con- 
cerned in  the  plunder  of  the  Friendship  and 
the  massacre  of  its  crew.  The  surviving  ra- 
jahs begged  for  peace,  and  this  was  finally 
granted  by  Commodore  Downes,  but  the  les- 
son taught  at  the  cannon's  mouth  is  still  re- 
membered on  the  Sumatran  coast. 

The  Marine  Corps  participated  with  bril- 
liant results  in  the  Florida  Indian  War,  and 
in  the  siege  of  Vera  Cruz  and  the  march  to 
the  City  of  Mexico  their  services  were  of  the 
first  order.  In  fact,  General  Scott  is  author- 
ity for  the  statement  that  at  all  times  during 
the  Mexican  War  they  were  placed  where  the 
hardest  work  was  to  be  done.    At  the  storm- 


SOLDIERS  SERVING  AFLOAT    113 

ing  of  Chapultepec,  Major  Levi  "Twiggs,  of 
the  marines,  led  the  assaulting  party  and 
was  killed.  This  fortress  having  been  cap- 
tured, the  marines  in  General  Quitman's  di- 
vision moved  directly  on  the  City  of  Mexico, 
and  were  accorded  the  honor  of  first  entering 
the  palace  and  hoisting  the  American  flag. 

The  marines  who  accompanied  Commodore 
Perry  to  Japan,  in  1852,  took  an  important 
part  in  that  expedition.  A  force  of  a  hun- 
dred marines  was  landed,  and,  together  with 
a  like  number  of  soldiers  and  two  brass  bands, 
marched  through  Yeddo  to  the  palace  of  the 
Mikado,  creating  a  most  favorable  impression 
on  the  foreign  officials.  A  similar  display 
was  made  by  Perry  when  he  returned  to 
Japan  in  1854,  to  receive  the  answer  of  the 
Japanese  Government  to  his  representations 
previously  made  regarding  the  advantages  of 
foreign  trade. 

It  was  a  force  of  marines  who  captured 
John  Brown  at  Harper's  Ferry,  in  1859. 
While  the  militia  of  Virginia  was  assembling 
by  the  thousand  to  attack  the  little  band  of 


114  THE    SEA  EOVEES 

abolitionists,  a  force  of  one  hundred  marines 
was  sent  from  Washington,  and  a  squad  of 
eight  of  them  battered  down  the  door  of  John 
Brown's  fort,  and  captured  his  party,  to  the 
chagrin  of  the  hundreds  of  other  military  men 
near  by  who  hoped  to  have  a  hand  in  the 
affair. 

Again  and  again  during  the  Civil  War  the 
marines  proved  themselves  brave  and  stub- 
born fighters.  In  the  encounter  between  the 
Merrimac  and  the  Cumberland,  the  marine 
division  was  under  Lieutenant  Charles  Hey- 
wood,  later  commander  of  the  corps.  The 
first  shot  from  the  Merrimac  killed  nine  ma- 
rines, yet  the  division  was  so  little  demoral- 
ized by  the  loss  that  it  not  only  continued 
fighting,  but  actually  fired  the  last  shot  dis- 
charged from  the  Cumberland  at  the  Merri- 
mac. For  services  rendered  between  1861 
and  1865,  thirty-seven  officers  and  men  of  the 
Marine  Corps  received  the  thanks  of  Con- 
gress, medals  or  swords,  and  twenty-eight 
were  brevetted  for  gallantry. 

In  the  brush  with  Corea  in  1871,  the  ma- 


SOLDIERS  SERVING  AFLOAT    115 

rines,  as  before  stated,  were  in  the  assault  on 
the  Salee  forts,  and  Lieutenant  McKee,  in 
carrying  the  works,  fell,  as  his  father  fell  in 
Mexico,  at  the  head  of  his  men,  and  first  in- 
side the  stormed  works. 

Commander,  afterward  Admiral,  Kimberly 
stated  in  his  report  that  to  the  marines  be- 
longed the  honor  of  "  first  landing  and  last 
leaving  the  shore.  Chosen  as  the  advance 
guard  on  account  of  their  steadiness  and  dis- 
cipline, their  whole  behavior  on  the  march 
and  in  the  assault  proved  that  the  confidence 
in  them  had  not  been  misplaced.,, 

The  marines  again  distinguished  them- 
selves in  1885,  when  an  insurrection  in  Pan- 
ama compelled  the  landing  there  of  a  force, 
which  stayed  until  all  danger  was  over,  and 
several  times,  in  more  recent  years,  the  offi- 
cers and  men  of  the  corps  have  plucked  a 
fresh  branch  for  their  laurels.  When  the  big 
railroad  strike  in  California  was  in  progress 
in  the  summer  of  1894  the  marine  guard  sta- 
tioned at  the  Mare  Island  Navy  Yard  was 
called  out  to  serve  with  the  regular  troops  at 


116  THE    SEA   EOVEES 

Sacramento,  Truckee,  Stockton  and  other 
towns.  In  alertness,  activity  and  general  sol- 
dierliness  they  showed  themselves  quite  the 
equals  of  the  army  troops,  and  the  colonel 
of  artillery  who  commanded  the  entire  bri- 
gade, did  not  fail  to  dwell  upon  this  fact  in 
his  report  to  the  War  Department.  One  of 
the  marines  at  Truckee  bent  the  stock  of  his 
rifle  in  clubbing  a  violent  rioter,  who  after- 
ward was  convicted  as  an  accessory  in  ditch- 
ing a  train  and  causing  the  deaths  of  four  sol- 
diers. The  marine  was  reproved  by  his  com- 
pany commander,  and  narrowly  escaped  a 
court-martial,  on  the  charge  of  destroying 
government  property.  " Bullets,' '  said  the 
commander,  "are  cheaper  than  rifles." 

The  American  marine  has  never  been 
known  to  show  the  white  feather,  no  matter 
what  the  odds  against  him.  When,  some 
years  ago,  Antonio  Ezeta,  the  Central  Ameri- 
can agitator,  was  being  chased  by  the  govern- 
ment authorities  of  the  Republic  of  Salvador, 
he  took  refuge  in  the  residence  of  the  Ameri- 
can consul  at  La  Libertad.      The  populace 


SOLDIERS  SERVING  AFLOAT    117 

raged  around  the  consulate,  and  word  was 
sent  to  the  garrison  on  the  outskirts  of  La 
Libertad  of  Ezeta  's  hiding-place.  An  Amer- 
ican gunboat  was  lying  in  the  harbor,  and  the 
marine  guard  of  twenty  men,  under  command 
of  a  sergeant,  was  sent  ashore  by  the  com- 
manding officer  at  the  request  of  the  consul, 
to  protect  the  latter 's  residence  and  the  ref- 
ugee within  it,  for  Ezeta  was  a  citizen  of  the 
United  States.  The  marine  guard  reached 
the  consulate  at  the  same  moment  with  a  bat- 
talion of  250  Salvadorean  soldiers.  The  ma- 
rines, not  a  whit  dismayed,  surrounded  the 
consulate,  and  for  eight  hours  stood  off  the 
swarthy  Salvadoreans.  Then,  by  a  ruse, 
Ezeta,  in  disguise,  was  slipped  to  the  beach 
and  taken  to  the  warship,  which  carried  him 
to  San  Francisco  to  stand  trial  in  the  United 
States  courts  for  violation  of  the  neutrality 
laws.  He  would  have  been  torn  limb  from 
limb  by  the  citizens  and  soldiers  of  La  Liber- 
tad, had  it  not  been  for  the  score  of  marines. 
The  captain  of  one  of  the  Salvadorean  com- 
panies  was   an   American   free-lance   from 


118  THE   SEA  ROVERS 

Western  New  York.  He  raved  over  the  cow- 
ardice of  the  dark  skinned  soldiers  he  com- 
manded, and  profanely  declared  that,  with 
half  a  dozen  marines  of  the  United  States  at 
his  back,  he  would  undertake  to  whip  the  en- 
tire Salvadorean  army.  His  men,  it  may 
be  stated  in  passing,  did  not  understand 
English. 

Finally,  in  the  war  with  Spain  and  the  more 
recent  operations  in  China,  the  Marine  Corps 
added  another  moving  and  glorious  chapter  to 
its  history.  At  Guantanamo  the  marine  bat- 
talion, commanded  by  Colonel  R.  W.  Hunting- 
don, fought  the  first  serious  land  engagement 
of  United  States  forces  on  foreign  soil  since 
the  Mexican  War.  The  fact  that  this  bat- 
talion was  attacked  by  the  enemy  in  over- 
whelming numbers,  and  for  over  three  days 
and  nights  was  under  constant  fire,  and  that  on 
the  fourth  day  a  portion  of  the  battalion  at- 
tacked and  repulsed  a  superior  force  of  Span- 
iards, shows,  to  quote  the  words  of  their  chief, 
"that  Colonel  Huntingdon  and  his  officers  and 
men  displayed  great  gallantry,  and  that  all 


SOLDIERS  SERVING  AFLOAT    119 

were  well  drilled  and  under  the  most  effective 
discipline. ' '  One  of  the  men  under  Hunting- 
don 's  command  was  Sergeant  Thomas  Quick, 
a  lithe  and  fearless  native  of  the  mountains 
of  West  Virginia.  At  a  critical  stage  of  the 
operations,  while  the  marines  were  engaged 
with  the  enemy  firing  from  ambush,  it  became 
necessary  to  dislodge  them,  and  it  was  desired 
that  the  Dolphin  should  shell  the  woods  in 
which  they  were  concealed.  Quick  volunteered 
to  signal  her,  and  standing  on  a  hill  wig- 
wagged her,  while  bullets  backed  the  dust 
about  him.  For  his  action,  described  as 
"beautiful"  by  his  commander,  he,  in  due 
time,  received  a  medal  of  honor  and  a  lieuten- 
ant's commission. 

The  headquarters  of  the  Marine  Corps  are 
at  the  barracks  in  the  City  of  Washington, 
where  are  located  the  commandant  and  his 
staff.  Besides  those  previously  mentioned, 
there  are  marine  barracks  at  Portsmouth, 
Boston,  League  Island,  Norfolk  and  Annapo- 
lis. But  the  fouled  anchor  running  through 
a  hemisphere  traced  with  the  outlines  of  the 


120  THE    SEA   EOVEKS 

two  American  continents,  which  adorns  the 
front  of  the  marine's  fatigue  cap,  tells  that 
he  is  at  home  both  on  sea  and  land,  and  when 
on  either,  shrewd,  sharp  blows  are  to  be 
struck  he  is  ready  for  them.  Nowhere  in  the 
world,  size  taken  into  account,  is  there  a  more 
efficient  organization  than  this  corps  of  6,000 
brave  fighting  men. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  POLICE  OF  THE  COAST 

The  revenue  cutter,  though  perhaps  the 
least  known,  is  one  of  the  most  useful 
branches  of  the  Federal  service.  Its  crea- 
tion antedates  by  several  years  that  of  the 
navy,  and  it  boasts  a  glorious  history.  It 
polices  the  coast  as  the  navy  polices  the 
ocean,  and  its  duties  are  as  varied  as  they  are 
weighty  and  important.  It  cruises  constantly 
from  the  fever  infected  regions  of  the  Gulf  to 
the  icebound  shores  of  the  Arctic  Sea.  It  is 
the  terror  and  constant  menace  of  the  smug- 
gler and  poacher.  It  sees  to  it  that  the  quar- 
antine is  strictly  maintained,  and  that  the 
neutrality  laws  are  not  violated  by  the  greedy 
and  lawless  of  our  own  and  other  lands.      It 

is  prompt  in  the  prevention  of  piracy,  and 
121 


122  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

suppresses  mutiny  with  a  heavy  hand.  It 
looks  after  emigrant  ships  and  enforces  the 
license  and  registry  statutes.  Last,  but  not 
least,  it  gives  timely  succor  to  the  shipwrecked 
and  annually  preserves  hundreds  of  lives 
and  millions  of  dollars'  worth  of  property. 
And  so,  wherever  one  familiar  with  its  his- 
tory falls  in  with  its  trim  white  cutters, 
whether  in  the  sunny  courses  of  the  Gulf,  or 
on  the  borders  of  the  great  Atlantic  highway, 
off  the  bleak  New  England  coast,  in  the 
crowded  harbors  of  our  lake  ports,  or  in  the 
still  waters  of  the  Pacific,  he  is  sure  to  give 
them  glad,  respectful  greeting,  as  modest, 
graceful  emblems  not  alone  of  our  country's 
greatness,  but  better  still,  of  duty  bravely  and 
nobly  done. 

The  Revenue  Cutter  Service  celebrated  the 
centennial  anniversary  of  its  existence  six- 
teen years  ago,  having  been  organized  in  1790. 
The  credit  for  its  creation  belongs  to  Alex- 
ander Hamilton,  that  great  first  Secretary  of 
the  Treasury,  to  whom  we  owe  so  much,  and 
whose  memory  in  these  days  of  self-vaunting 


THE  POLICE  OF  THE  COAST     123 

mediocrity  we  too  often  neglect  to  honor.  His 
was  a  vision  that  saw  clearly  all  the  needs  of 
the  future,  and  as  early  as  1789  he  earnestly 
advised  the  employment  of  "  boats  for  the  se- 
curity of  the  revenue  against  contraband. ' '  A 
little  later  he  submitted  to  Congress  a  bill 
providing  for  a  fleet  of  ten  boats,  to  be  thus 
distributed  along  the  seaboard:  Two  for 
the  Massachusetts  and  New  Hampshire  coast, 
one  for  Long  Island  Sound,  one  for  New 
York,  one  for  the  waters  of  the  Delaware 
Bay,  two  for  the  Chesapeake  and  its  environs 
and  one  each  for  North  Carolina,  South  Caro- 
lina and  Georgia.  Congress  accepted  the  Sec- 
retary's recommendations,  and  in  a  few 
months  ten  swift  cutters  were  built,  armed 
and  equipped,  each  vessel  being  manned  by 
a  crew  of  ten  men. 

j  Thus  was  born  the  Kevenue  Cutter  Service, 
a  modest  fleet  of  small,  speedy  vessels  only  a 
little  larger  than  the  yawls  of  the  present 
time.  In  addition  to  their  pay,  the  officers  and 
crews  received  a  part  of  the  amounts  derived 
from  fines,  penalties  and  forfeitures  collected 


124  THE   SEA   ROVERS 

in  case  of  seizures  and  for  breaches  of  the 
navigation  and  customs  laws,  but  later  the 
officers  were  given  larger  salaries  and  the 
payment  of  prize  money  abolished.  At  first 
only  a  small  force  was  required  to  adequately 
protect  the  commerce  of  an  extensive  yet  thin- 
ly populated  coast,  but  our  foreign  trade  grew 
so  rapidly,  and  the  importance  of  our  ship- 
ping interests  increased  so  steadily,  that  it 
soon  became  clear  that  a  strong  cordon  of 
well  equipped  and  speedy  cruisers  would  be 
necessary  for  their  effective  protection.  For 
this  reason,  Congress,  in  1799,  gave  the  Presi- 
dent authority  to  equip  and  maintain  as  many 
revenue  cutters  as  he  should  deem  necessary 
for  the  proper  policing  of  our  coast-line. 

And  thus  the  Revenue  Cutter  Service  grew 
in  size  and  became  more  efficient  with  each 
passing  year.  During  the  first  quarter  cen- 
tury of  its  existence,  it  was  almost  constantly 
in  the  eyes  of  the  public,  and  its  daring  deeds 
frequently  afforded  welcome  material  to  the 
novelists  of  the  period.  Among  its  duties 
it  was  charged  with  the  suppression  of  piracy, 


THE  POLICE  OF  THE  COAST     125 

even  so  late  as  the  opening  of  the  last  century, 
a  serious  menace  to  commerce;  and  it  also 
waged  a  constant  and  relentless  war  against 
smugglers  and  smuggling.  Those  were  the 
palmy  days  of  the  smuggler,  who  often  made 
reckless  hazard  of  his  life  in  the  illegal  race 
for  gain.  Steam  vessels  had  not  yet  come 
into  use,  and  speed  and  safety  then  lay  in 
trim  lines  and  mighty  spreads  of  canvas. 
Smugglers'  schooners,  sharp  built,  light  of 
draught,  and  with  enormous  sails,  were  con- 
stantly hovering  in  the  offing,  biding  some 
favorable  opportunity  to  discharge  cargoes 
upon  which  no  duty  had  been  paid. 

It  was  the  business  of  the  Revenue  Cutter 
Service  to  keep  watch  upon  these  vultures  of 
the  sea,  spoiling  them  of  their  quarry,  and 
in  this  way  sprang  up  hand-to-hand  encoun- 
ters both  by  sea  and  land,  sudden,  sharp  and 
terrible,  in  which  many  a  gallant  life  was  lost 
and  fame  and  honor  won.  Now,  however, 
the  pirate  and  the  smuggler,  at  least  of  the 
bold  life-risking  sort,  have  passed  to  the 
limbo  of  forgotten  things,  and  the  officers  and 


126  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

men  of  the  Revenue  Cutter  Service  no  longer 
win  glory  and  a  reputation  for  bullet-chasing 
courage  in  their  suppression.  The  new  field 
which  they  have  built  up  for  themselves,  is 
daring  and  full  of  danger,  but  it  has  not  the 
same  interest  for  the  general  public,  and  so 
their  deeds  of  heroism  are  now  performed 
in  out-of-the-way  corners,  with  no  herald 
present  to  trumpet  them  to  the  world,  and 
with  the  pleasant  consciousness  of  duty  well 
done  as  their  only  reward. 

The  Revenue  Cutter  Service  in  time  of  war 
has  always  co-operated  promptly  and  effect- 
ively with  the  navy  against  the  foe.  Indeed, 
the  cutters  belonging  to  the  Revenue  Cutter 
Service  have  taken  a  gallant  and  active  part 
in  all  the  wars  of  the  United  States  save  one. 
In  1797,  when  war  with  France  threatened, 
the  Revenue  Cutter  Service  was  placed  on  a 
war  footing,  and  by  its  promptness  and  vigi- 
lance, did  much  to  uphold  the  dignity  and 
prestige  of  the  Federal  Government.  In  the 
following  year  a  number  of  cutters  cruised 
with  diligence  and  daring  in  West  Indian 


THE  POLICE  OF  THE  COAST     127 

waters,  and  the  record  of  the  Revenue  Cutter 
Service  in  guarding  the  seaboard  and  pre- 
venting the  departure  of  unauthorized  mer- 
chant ships,  while  the  embargo  act  of  1807 
was  in  force,  was  also  a  fine  one. 

Its  services  during  the  War  of  1812  were 
as  varied  as  they  were  brilliant.  Not  only 
did  its  vessels  successfully  essay  perilous  mis- 
sions, but  they  also  took  a  gallant  part  in 
many  of  the  most  hotly  contested  naval  ac- 
tions of  the  war.  In  fact,  to  the  cutter  Jeffer- 
son and  its  gallant  crew  belong  the  credit  for 
the  first  marine  capture  of  that  contest,  for 
within  a  week  of  the  proclamation  of  war  tlie 
Jefferson  fell  in  with  and  captured  the  British 
schooner  Patriot,  with  a  valuable  cargo,  while 
on  her  way  from  Guadeloupe  to  Halifax. 
And  this  proved  only  a  fitting  prelude  to  a 
hundred  illustrious  deeds  performed  by  the 
officers  and  crews  of  the  Revenue  Cutter 
Service  during  the  following  three  years.  In 
the  second  year  of  the  war  the  revenue  cut- 
ter Vigilance  overhauled  and  after  a  sharp 
engagement  captured  the  British  privateer 


128  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

Dart,  off  Newport,  while  the  cutters  Madison 
and  Gallatin  carried  many  rich  prizes  into 
the  ports  of  Charleston  and  Savannah. 

"When  in  1832  South  Carolina  threatened  to 
secede  from  the  Union,  several  cutters  cruised 
off  the  Carolina  coast,  ready  to  assert  by 
force  the  supremacy  of  the  Federal  Govern- 
ment. During  the  Seminole  War  revenue  cut- 
ters were  not  only  actively  engaged  in  trans- 
porting troops  and  munitions,  but  were  also 
of  great  service  in  protecting  the  settlements 
along  the  Florida  coast.  During  the  Mexi- 
can War  eight  revenue  cutters  formed  a  part 
of  the  naval  squadron  operating  against  the 
southern  republic  and  participated  gallantly 
in  the  assault  on  Alvarado  and  Tobasco,  while 
the  revenue  cutters  McLane  and  Forward 
contributed  materially  to  the  success  of  Com- 
modore Perry's  expedition  against  Tobasco 
and  Frontera  in  October,  1846. 

Finally,  a  volume  would  be  required  to  ade- 
quately record  the  work  of  the  Revenue  Cut- 
ter Service  during  the  Civil  War.  Its  cut- 
ters were  employed  as  despatch  boats,  joined 


AN   OFFICER   IN   THE   REVENUE   CUTTER   SERVICE 


THE  POLICE  OF  THE  COAST     129 

in  the  pursuit  of  blockade  runners,  did  guard 
and  scouting  duty,  and  often  shared  in  en- 
gagements with  Confederate  batteries  and 
vessels.  In  truth,  it  was  a  revenue  cutter, 
the  Harriet  Lane,  which,  in  Charleston  Har- 
bor, in  April,  1861,  fired  on  the  Union  side, 
the  first  shot  of  the  Civil  War.  The  Harriet 
Lane  was  long  the  pride  of  the  Eevenue  Cut- 
ter Service,  and  had  a  notable  career.  Named 
after  the  beautiful  and  gracious  niece  of  Pres- 
ident Buchanan,  she  participated  in  the  naval 
expedition  to  Paraguay,  and  during  the  Civil 
War  was  often  under  fire.  Again,  during 
the  war  with  Spain,  the  Revenue  Cutter  Serv- 
ice achieved  an  enviable  and  heroic  record. 

The  proper  patrol  of  our  long  coast  line  re- 
quires a  large  number  of  vessels,  and  the  Rev- 
enue Cutter  Service  at  the  present  time  has 
a  complement  of  thirty-seven  vessels,  all 
splendidly  adapted  to  the  work  in  hand.  Dur- 
ing the  last  sixty  years  steamers  have  slowly 
but  steadily  replaced  the  top-sail  schooners 
of  the  old  days,  and  the  vessels  now  employed 
by  the  Revenue  Cutter  Service  are,  with  one 


130  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

or  two  exceptions,  small,  compact,  well-built 
steamers,  which,  save  for  the  guns  they  carry, 
might  easily  be  mistaken  for  swift  steam 
yachts.  In  size  they  range  from  130  to  500 
tons  burden.  The  majority  of  them  have 
been  built  under  the  direct  supervision  of  offi- 
cers of  the  service  and  are  perfectly  adapted 
to  the  varying  wants  of  the  several  stations. 
Nearly  all  of  them  are  armed  with  from  two 
to  four  breech-loading  rifled  cannon  and  carry 
small  arms  for  the  use  of  their  crews.  Most 
of  the  vessels  bear  the  names  of  former  sec- 
retaries and  assistant  secretaries  of  the 
Treasury,  but  the  Andrew  Johnson,  the  Will- 
iam H.  Seward  and  U.  S.  Grant  are  also 
among  the  names  to  be  found  on  the  list.  The 
U.  S.  Grant,  which  does  duty  at  Port  Town- 
send,  is  a  bark-rigged  steam  propeller,  and  a 
model  of  its  size  and  type.  Strange  to  say,  it 
is  the  only  ship  of  the  United  States  that 
bears  the  name  of  the  greatest  captain  of  his 
age. 

The  vessels  of  the  Revenue  Cutter  Service 
are  always  reacly  for  instant  duty  in  the  most 


THE  POLICE  OF  THE  COAST     1 31 

distant  quarters.  When,  in  1867,  Alaska  be- 
came a  part  of  the  United  States,  within  a 
week  after  the  ratification  of  the  treaty,  the 
revenue  cutter  Lincoln  was  steaming  north- 
ward, and  was  the  first  to  obtain  accurate  in- 
formation regarding  the  geography,  re- 
sources and  climate  of  our  new  possession. 
Three  or  more  revenue  cutters  now  cruise 
every  year  in  Alaskan  waters,  guarding  the 
seal  fisheries  and  often  giving  much  needed 
relief  to  the  whaling  fleet  that  yearly  sails 
from  San  Francisco  for  a  cruise  in  the  waters 
above  the  Behring  Sea. 

Officers  and  crews  of  the  cutters  doing  serv- 
ice in  the  waters  of  Alaska  have  remarkable 
stories  to  tell,  and  the  log-books  of  the  cut- 
ters Corwin  and  Bear  have  been  filled  during 
the  last  twenty-five  years  with  a  record  all  too 
brief,  of  many  thrilling  adventures  in  the 
frozen  North.  The  Corwin  left  San  Fran- 
cisco for  the  Polar  Sea  in  May,  1881,  charged 
with  ascertaining,  if  possible,  the  fate  of  two 
missing  whalers,  and  to  establish  communica- 
tion with    the   exploring    steamer  Jeanette. 


132  THE   SEA  EOVERS 

Five  times  during  the  previous  year  the  Cor- 
win  had  attempted  to  reach  Herald  Island, 
and  failed  each  time.  On  this  voyage  better 
success  attended,  and  after  braving  the  perils 
of  the  drift  ice,  a  landing  was  made,  while 
at  the  same  time  the  bleak  coast  of  Wrangel 
Land  was  sighted  to  the  westward.  On  Au- 
gust 12,  1881,  the  Corwin  having  pushed  its 
way  through  great  masses  of  floating  and 
grounded  ice,  into  an  open  space  near  the 
island,  effected  a  landing  on  Wrangel  Land, 
this  being  the  first  time  that  white  men  had 
ever  succeeded  in  reaching  that  remote  cor- 
ner of  the  Arctic  waste. 

The  cruises  of  the  Corwin  in  1880  and  1881 
covered  over  12,000  miles,  and  the  officers  and 
crew,  while  carefully  preventing  illegal  raids 
upon  the  sealing  interests,  also  found  time 
to  prosecute  important  surveys  and  sound- 
ings, to  make  a  careful  study  of  the  natives 
of  Alaska,  and  to  collect  a  great  mass  of  im- 
portant data  relative  to  the  natural  features 
and  mineral  wealth  of  the  country.  The 
cruises  of  the  Corwin  in  the  succeeding  years 


THE  POLICE  OF  THE  COAST     133 

of  1882, 1883, 1884  and  1885,  were  of  scarcely 
less  importance.  One  of  these  cruises  was  to 
St.  Lawrence  Bay,  Siberia,  where  timely  suc- 
cor was  given  to  the  officers  and  crew  of  the 
burned  naval  relief  steamer  Kogers,  which 
had  gone  north  in  the  spring  of  1881  in  search 
of  the  Jeanette.  During  the  Corwin  's  cruise 
in  1883  a  considerable  portion  of  the  interior 
of  Alaska  was  carefully  explored  and  an  out- 
break among  the  natives  on  the  mainland 
promptly  quelled.  During  its  two  succeed- 
ing cruises  the  Corwin  saved  from  death 
nearly  100  shipwrecked  whalers  and  destitute 
miners. 

Since  1885  the  cutter  Bear  has  patrolled  the 
Alaskan  waters,  making  a  record  equal  to 
that  of  its  predecessor.  Its  work  in  protect- 
ing the  sealing  fisheries  is  well  known,  and  it 
has  also  suppressed  in  large  measure  the  il- 
legal sale  to  the  natives  of  firearms  and 
spirits.  Its  record  as  a  life  saver  is  also  a 
long  one,  and  some  of  its  experiences  have 
been  more  thrilling  than  those  to  be  found 
in  the  pages  of  any  romance. 


134  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

When  the  Bear  reached  Alaskan  waters 
in  1887  the  captain  of  the  whaling  ship  Hun- 
ter handed  its  commander  a  most  remark- 
able message,  which  had  been  delivered  to  him 
a  few  days  before  by  the  natives  of  Cape 
Behring.  This  message  consisted  of  a  piece 
of  wood,  on  one  side  of  which  was  rudely 
carved:  "1887  J.  B.  V.  Bk.  Nap.  Tobacco 
give,"  and  on  the  other  "S.  W.  C.  Nav.  M  10 
help  come." 

The  riddle  offered  by  the  message  was 
speedily  solved  by  the  officers  of  the  Bear. 
The  bark  Napoleon  had  been  wrecked  in  1885 
off  Cape  Navarin,  and  only  fourteen  of  the 
crew  of  thirty-six  men  had  been  rescued.  Of 
the  unlucky  twenty-two  a  few  reached  the  Si- 
berian shore,  but  nothing  had  been  heard  of 
their  subsequent  fate.  The  officers  of  the 
Bear  reasoned  that  the  sender  of  the  message 
was  a  member  of  the  Napoleon's  crew  who 
had  found  refuge  with  the  natives  to  the 
southwest  of  Cape  Navarin  and  was  now  anx- 
iously awaiting  rescue.  This  reasoning 
proved  correct,  and   a   few  weeks  later   the 


THE  POLICE  OF  THE  COAST     135 

weary  two  years'  exile  of  James  B.  Vincent, 
of  Edgartown,  Mass.,  boatswain  of  the  Na- 
poleon, had  a  happy  termination. 

The  story  Vincent  told  his  rescuers,  was  of 
tragic  and  absorbing  interest.  The  Napo- 
leon, caught  in  a  storm,  had  been  wedged  in 
the  ice  and  its  crew  compelled  to  take  to  the 
boats.  The  boats,  four  in  number,  were  soon 
separated,  and  thirty-six  days  of  fearful  suf- 
fering passed  before  the  one  containing  Vin- 
cent and  his  companions  reached  shore.  In 
the  meantime  nine  of  the  eighteen  men  in  the 
boat  had  died  and  several  others  had  been 
driven  insane  by  their  sufferings.  Vincent 
was  the  only  one  who  could  walk  when  they 
reached  land.  Five  more  soon  died  and  three 
of  the  survivors  were  helpless  from  frost  bites 
and  exhaustion  when  they  fell  in  with  a  party 
of  natives.  A  portion  of  the  latter  lived  in- 
land, and  these  took  Vincent  with  them  when 
they  returned  to  their  homes.  The  following 
Spring  when  the  natives  visited  the  shore  to 
fish,  Vincent  found  his  three  shipmates  barely 
alive,  and  they  died  soon  after. 


136  THE    SEA  KOVERS 

When  the  fishing  was  over  Vincent  went 
back  to  the  mountains  with  his  new-found 
friends,  and  during  the  following  winter 
carved  and  entrusted  to  wandering  natives 
from  Cape  Behring  the  message  which  later 
brought  about  his  rescue.  When  spring  of 
the  second  year  opened  Vincent,  with  the  na- 
tives, again  started  for  the  seashore  to  fish. 
Great  was  his  joy  a  few  weeks  later  when  he 
was  attracted  by  the  shouting  of  the  natives 
and  looked  up  to  see  a  white  man  and  to  find 
himself  rescued  at  last.  The  Bear  conveyed 
him  to  San  Francisco,  whence  he  made 
his  way  to  his  home  in  Massachusetts. 

While  among  the  Eskimo,  Vincent  was 
kindly  cared  for  by  an  old  native,  whose  wife 
received  him  as  her  son.  After  a  year  the 
husband  died,  but  his  last  instructions  to  his 
wife  were  to  care  for  and  keep  their  guest 
until  he  was  rescued.  When  relief  at  last 
came  the  old  woman  with  tears  in  her  eyes, 
said  that  she  was  ready  to  die,  for  she  had 
done  as  her  husband  wished.     Warm  and  ten- 


THE  POLICE  OF  THE  COAST     137 

der  hearts  can  be  found  even  in  Siberian 
wastes. 

The  Revenue  Cutter  Service  is  part  of  the 
Treasury  Department,  and  comes  under  the 
direct  jurisdiction  of  the  Secretary  of  the 
Treasury.  Subordinate  to  him  are  a  chief 
and  assistant  chief  of  division.  Each  ves- 
sel of  the  service  patrols  the  district  to  which 
it  is  assigned,  and  forms  a  picket  line  at  the 
outer  edge  of  government  jurisdiction,  which 
extends  four  leagues  from  the  coast.  Every 
vessel  arriving  in  United  States  waters  is 
boarded  and  examined,  and  its  papers  certi- 
fied. If  a  vessel  liable  to  seizure  or  exam- 
ination does  not  bring  to  when  requested  to 
do  so,  the  commander  of  a  cutter,  after  dis- 
charging a  warning  gun,  has  authority  to 
fire  into  such  a  vessel,  and  all  acting  under  his 
orders  are  indemnified  from  any  penalties  or 
action  from  damages.  On  each  cutter  there 
are  a  captain,  three  lieutenants,  a  cadet,  an 
engineer  and  two  assistants,  and  a  crew  of  a 
dozen  or  more  men. 

The  service  includes  in  its  several  grades 


138  THE    SEA   EOVEES 

about  one  thousand  men.  Strict  discipline 
is  maintained,  and  its  crews  receive  constant 
instruction  and  exercise  in  the  use  of  great 
guns,  rifles,  carbines, pistols,  cutlasses  and  the 
like.  An  officer  of  the  Revenue  Cutter  Serv- 
ice must  not  only  possess  considerable  execu- 
tive ability,  but  must  also  be  a  man  of  varied 
and  accurate  information,  having  a  knowl- 
edge of  gunnery  and  military  drills,  and  be 
thoroughly  familiar  with  the  customs  and 
navigation  laws  of  the  country. 

Rank  is  obtained  by  promotion,  the  latter 
being  governed  by  written  competitive  exam- 
inations, from  three  to  five  of  the  senior  offi- 
cers of  a  lower  grade  being  selected  for  any 
vacancy  occurring  in  the  higher  grade.  A 
young  man  wishing  to  join  the  service  as  an 
officer  undergoes  a  rigid  examination  held  an- 
nually at  Washington,  and  then  serves  for 
several  years  aboard  the  revenue  schoolship, 
where  he  learns  sea  mathematics,  sea  law  and 
seamanship.  His  period  of  apprenticeship 
ended,  he  joins  a  regular  cutter  as  a  junior 


THE  POLICE  OF  THE  COAST     139 

officer  and  waits  for  promotion  at  a  salary 
of  $85  per  month. 

Life  on  board  a  revenue  cutter  during  the 
months  of  summer  is  usually  an  easy  and 
pleasant  one,  but  in  the  winter  there  is  an- 
other and  different  story  to  tell.  From  De- 
cember to  April  of  each  year  the  cutters 
cruise  constantly  on  their  stations  to  give  aid 
to  vessels  in  distress,  and  are,  in  most  cases, 
forbidden  to  put  into  port  unless  under  stress 
of  weather  or  other  unforeseen  conditions 
arise. 

Few  stormy  winter  days  pass  without  the 
revenue  cutter  seeing  a  signal  from  some  ves- 
sel in  distress,  and  aid  is  never  sought  in  vain. 
The  cutter  steers  straight  for  the  signal  as 
soon  as  it  is  sighted,  and  when  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  distant  lowers  a  boat.  Often  a  boat 
is  launched  into  a  sea  where  death  seems  cer- 
tain, but  officers  and  men  never  shrink  from 
their  duty.  When  the  boat  gains  the  side 
of  the  vessel  seeking  aid,  the  master  whom 
misfortune  has  overtaken,  requests,  as  a  rule, 
to  be  towed  into  port.      When  such  a  request 


140  THE    SEA   KOVERS 

is  made,  a  line  must  be  got  to  the  distressed 
vessel  and  from  the  boat  to  the  cutter,  a  task 
often  performed  with  infinite  difficulty  and  at 
the  risk  of  life  and  limb. 

When  a  vessel  is  found  drifting  helplessly 
and  about  to  dash  itself  upon  rocks,  the  peril 
is  even  greater.  Then  the  cutter  must  stand 
further  away,  and  its  boat  is  in  constant  dan- 
ger of  being  dashed  upon  the  rocks.  But, 
thanks  to  the  skill,  experience  and  coolness  of 
the  officers  and  crew  of  the  cutter,  a  line  is 
generally  got  into  the  boat  and  to  the  steamer, 
and  the  imperilled  vessel  hauled  away  to 
safety. 

One  of  the  finest  feats  of  life-saving  ever 
performed  by  the  Eevenue  Cutter  Service  was 
that  credited  to  the  cutter  Dexter,  some  years 
ago.  On  January  17,  1884,  the  iron-built 
steamer  City  of  Columbus  left  Boston  for  the 
port  of  Savannah,  carrying  eighty-one  pas- 
sengers and  a  ship's  company  of  forty-five 
persons.  Her  commander  was  a  capable  and 
experienced  seaman,  and  though  by  nightfall 
the  wind,  which  had  been  blowing  all  day,  had 


THE  POLICE  OF  THE  COAST     141 

increased  to  a  hurricane,  and  a  heavy  sea  was 
running,  he  had  no  serious  apprehension  of 
danger.  The  vessel,  following  her  usual  course 
through  Vineyard  Sound,  had  left  behind 
nearly  all  the  dangerous  points  which  thickly 
bestrew  those  waters,  and  would  soon  be 
safely  in  the  open  ocean.  It  was  at  that  luck- 
less moment  that  the  captain  left  the  bridge 
and  went  below,  first  directing  the  helmsman 
how  to  steer. 

Within  an  hour  the  steamer  struck  on 
Devil's  Bridge,  and  an  awful  fate  was  upon 
the  hapless  passengers  and  crew,  who  were 
sleeping  soundly,  all  unconscious  of  danger. 
The  weather  was  bitter  cold,  the  darkness  in- 
tense, the  wind  blowing  a  hurricane  and  the 
waves  rolling  mountain  high.  In  the  twink- 
ling of  an  eye  a  hundred  poor  creatures  were 
swept  to  their  death  in  the  icy  waters.  A 
few  of  the  stronger  ones  took  refuge  in  the 
rigging,  but  many  of  these,  benumbed  by  the 
cold,  dropped  one  by  one  from  their  supports 
and    disappeared    in    the    sea,    while    such 


142  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

boats    as    were   cleared    away   were    either 
dashed  to  pieces  or  instantly  swamped. 

The  wreck  occurred  about  four  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  and  soon  after  daylight  the  Dex- 
ter reached  the  scene  of  the  disaster.  Her 
commander  at  once  dispatched  two  boats  to 
the  rescue  of  those  still  clinging  to  the  rig- 
ging of  the  Columbus,  and  thirteen  men, 
jumping  from  their  refuge  into  the  sea,  were 
picked  up  as  they  came  to  the  surface,  and 
conveyed  to  the  Dexter.  To  reach  the 
wreck  in  small  boats  through  an  angry  sea 
was  an  undertaking  so  perilous  as  to  make 
even  the  boldest  pause,  and  called  for  cour- 
age of  the  highest  order.  However,  the  Dex- 
ter Js  crew  proved  equal  to  the  test,  and 
Lieutenant  John  U.  Rhodes  made  himself 
famous  by  an  act  of  the  noblest  heroism.  Two 
men,  rendered  helpless  by  cold  and  exposure, 
still  clung  to  the  rigging  of  the  Columbus 
after  all  their  companions  had  been  taken  off. 
To  board  the  ill-fated  vessel  was  impossible ; 
Rhodes  essayed  to  reach  it  by  swimming.  He 
gained  the  side  of  the  vessel  after  a  gallant 


THE  POLICE  OF  THE  COAST     143 

battle  with  the  waves,  but  was  struck  by  a 
piece  of  floating  timber,  and  had  to  abandon 
the  attempt.  Bruised  and  half  fainting,  he 
insisted  upon  making  another  trial,  reached 
the  vessel  and  brought  away  the  two  men, 
both  of  whom  died  a  few  hours  later.  The 
Legislature  of  Connecticut,  Rhodes'  native 
State,  passed  a  resolution  thanking  him  for 
his  gallant  conduct,  and  he  received  many 
medals  and  testimonials. 

Rhodes  has  since  died,  but  the  Revenue 
Cutter  Service  still  numbers  among  its  offi- 
cers scores  of  men  endowed  with  the  flawless 
bravery  of  which  he  gave  such  shining  proof 
at  the  wreck  of  the  City  of  Columbus.  One  of 
these  is  Lieutenant  James  H.  Scott.  This 
brilliant  young  officer — I  cite  his  case  as  a 
typical  one — was  born  in  Pennsylvania  thirty- 
seven  years  ago,  and  while  still  in  his  teens 
shipped  as  a  boy  on  a  merchant  vessel  in 
commerce  between  Philadelphia  and  Ant- 
werp. Tiring  of  this  trade,  he  sailed  as  an 
able  seaman  from  New  York  to  Bombay  and 
other  East  Indian  ports,  making  the  last  voy- 


144  THE    SEA    ROVERS 

age  as  boatswain  of  the  good  ship  Ridgeway, 
after  which,  declining  proffer  of  a  second 
mate's  berth,  he  entered  the  Revenue  Cutter 
Service  as  a  cadet. 

Graduated  in  1890,  and  made  acting  third 
lieutenant  on  the  cutter  Woodbury,  it  was 
then  that  young  Scott,  who  while  attached 
to  the  revenue  schoolship  had  jumped  over- 
board in  Lisbon  harbor  and  rescued  the  quar- 
termaster of  his  vessel,  again  gave  proof  of 
the  sterling  stuff  that  was  in  him.  On  a  cold, 
clear  day  in  January,  1891,  the  Woodbury, 
which  is  stationed  at  Portland,  Me.,  was  cruis- 
ing to  the  eastward  of  that  port,  the  ther- 
mometer below  zero,  and  the  rigging  covered 
with  ice.  The  Woodbury  was  about  half-way 
over  her  cruising  ground  when  the  officer  of 
the  deck  discovered  a  large  three-masted 
schooner  hard  aground  on  a  ledge  of  rocks 
which  stood  well  out  from  the  shore.  A  high 
sea  was  running  at  the  time,  though  the  cut- 
ter rose  and  fell  to  every  wave  with  apparent 
unconcern,  and  breaking  clean  over  the 
schooner,  the  crew  of  which  had  taken  refuge 


THE  POLICE  OF  THE  COAST     145 

on  the  rocks  and  were  now  frantically  sig- 
nalling for  help.  It  was  clear  that  unless 
help  reached  them  they  would  quickly  perish 
from  the  cold. 

Captain  Fengar,  commanding  the  Wood- 
bury, ran  in  as  close  as  he  could  without  peril 
to  his  vessel,  and  carefully  surveyed  the 
ground  before  giving  an  order.  His  practiced 
eye  told  him  in  a  moment  that  to  send  in  a 
boat  of  the  cutter  type  would  mean  its  cer- 
tain destruction  against  the  rocks,  even  if  it 
could  live  in  the  sea  then  running.  However, 
the  captain  suddenly  recalled  that  a  fisher- 
man's village  was  only  a  few  miles  distant, 
and  that  there  he  could  obtain  a  couple  of 
dories  admirably  adapted  to  the  task  in  hand. 
Shouting  to  the  men  on  the  rocks  to  hold  on 
and  not  lose  hope,  the  cutter,  at  a  word  from 
its  commander,  headed  about,  and  went  plung- 
ing and  rolling  at  top  speed  in  the  direction 
of  the  village.  Two  hours  later  the  Wood- 
bury was  again  on  the  scene,  with  a  good-sized 
dory  on  one  of  her  davits. 

Closing  in  on  the  wreck,  Captain  Fengar 


146  THE    SEA   BOVERS 

called  for  volunteers.  Almost  to  a  man  the 
crew  responded,  but  among  the  foremost  were 
Cadets  Scott  and  W.  S.  Van  Cott.  Captain 
Fengar  allowed  the  two  young  men  to  go,  but 
not  without  some  misgivings.  Both  insisted 
on  pulling  oars,  the  dory  being  in  charge  of 
Lieutenant  W.  L.  Howland,  an  experienced 
and  capable  officer.  As  the  dory  left  the  ship 
it  was  observed  that  a  life-saving  crew  from  a 
station  well  down  the  coast  was  approaching. 
It  would  never  do  to  let  the  Woodbury  be 
beaten,  and  her  dory  crew  pulled  with  all  the 
vim  they  could  command.  The  race  was  to  be 
a  close  one,  but  at  the  outset  the  Woodbury's 
boat  gained  the  lead,  and  such  a  run,  in  such 
a  sea,  was  never  perhaps  pulled  by  opposing 
boats. 

Lieutenant  Howland  in  getting  close  in, 
dared  not  run  up  too  close  to  the  rocks,  and 
after  a  couple  of  ineffectual  attempts  to  heave 
a  line  was  about  to  despair  of  success,  when 
suddenly  Cadet  (now  Lieutenant)  Scott,  se- 
curing the  line  around  his  waist,  sprang  over- 
board, before  any  one  in  the  boat  knew  what 


THE  POLICE  OF  THE  COAST     147 

he  was  about.  Shouting  to  Lieutenant  How- 
land  to  pay  the  line  out,  young  Scott  was 
dashed  upon  the  rocks  and  seized  by  the  im- 
prisoned sailors.  The  brave  young  fellow 
was  badly  stunned,  but  he  had  gained  his 
point  by  getting  the  line  to  the  rocks.  Com- 
munication was  now  effected  with  the  dory, 
which  all  this  time  was  riding  the  seas  at  a 
safe  distance.  Another  line  was  hauled  up 
from  the  boat,  and  one  by  one  the  sailors 
jumped  clear  of  the  rocks  and  were  hauled 
to  the  dory,  whence  they  were  conveyed  with- 
out delay  to  the  deck  of  the  cutter.  When 
rescued  they  had  been  fourteen  hours  on  the 
rock.  Since  the  incident  just  related,  Lieu- 
tenant Scott,  though  still  one  of  its  youngest 
officers,  has  held  every  position  in  the  Reve- 
nue Cutter  Service. 

The  present  chief  of  the  Revenue  Cutter 
Service  is  Captain  C.  F.  Shoemaker.  He  has 
climbed  to  this  position  from  the  lowest  rung 
of  the  ladder,  and  is  a  man  whose  success 
would  have  been  notable  in  almost  any  call- 
ing.    Many  of  the  other  captains  of  the  serv- 


148  THE   SEA   EOVERS 

ice  are  men  of  mark  and  achievement,  for  the 
Government  has  no  nobler,  better,  braver 
servants  than  those  who  officer  and  man  its 
revenue  cutters. 


CHAPTER  VI 


THE    OCEAN    PILOT 


The  ocean  pilots  and  deep  sea  divers  of 
New  York  have  one  thing  in  common;  both 
object  to  taking  apprentices,  and  in  the  case 
of  the  former,  at  least,  there  is  good  reason 
for  this,  since  they  have  been,  for  generations, 
the  aristocrats  of  their  calling.  The  pilots 
who  sail  out  of  Sandy  Hook  are  no  hardier 
than  their  rugged  and  fearless  fellows  of  the 
North  Sea,  but  they  subject  themselves  to 
greater  dangers  by  their  long  cruises,  and 
rough,  indeed,  must  be  the  weather  that  can 
keep  them  in  port.  They  cruise  night  and 
day,  in  search  of  incoming  craft;  their 
torches '  flare  lights  up  the  snow  and  sleet  of 
winter  storms  and  contends  with  the  darkness 
of  summer  fogs;  and  they  speak  and  board 

149 


150  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

in  all  sorts  of  weather  and  at  all  seasons  the 
fleet  liners  that  cross  the  western  ocean  in  less 
than  a  week.  And  these  pilots  of  the  New 
York  and  New  Jersey  shores  are  a  revelation 
to  the  tourist,  who,  having  never  heard  of 
them,  sees  them  for  the  first  time.  The  lat- 
ter, in  most  cases,  expects  to  watch  a  rough- 
and-ready  sort  of  fellow  in  homespun,  with 
a  swaggering  air  and  a  boisterous  manner, 
climb  from  the  pilot's  yawl  up  the  black  hull's 
towering  side.  Instead,  he  sees  a  man  of 
modest  and  pleasing  address,  about  whom 
there  is  little  to  indicate  his  calling,  and  much 
that  bespeaks  the  merchant  or  clerk  one  meets 
of  a  morning  on  lower  Broadway.  There 
was  a  time  when  our  pilots  indulged  in  the 
luxury  of  a  high  silk  hat  when  boarding  ves- 
sels in  sunny  weather,  but  they  are  not  so 
fastidious  nowadays,  and  use  derbies  instead. 
Prosperous  as  a  class,  the  pilots  of  New 
York  pay  dearly  for  their  prosperity  by  the 
most  arduous  sea  labor.  Since  1853  more 
than  thirty-five  boats  have  been  sunk  and 
wrecked  in  various  ways,  and  twice  that  num- 


THE  OCEAN  PILOT  151 

ber  of  pilots  have  lost  their  lives.  There  are 
at  the  present  time  upward  of  160  pilots  cruis- 
ing from  the  port  of  New  York.  They  are 
subject  to  the  supervision  of  a  pilots'  commis- 
sion of  five  members,  named  by  the  Governor 
of  New  York,  and  each  pilot  is  appointed 
after  a  long  and  severe  apprenticeship.  He 
must  first  serve,  boy  and  man,  before  the  mast 
until  he  masters  every  problem  in  the  man- 
agement of  every  form  of  rig.  Then  he  must 
contrive  to  obtain  the  position  of  boat-keeper 
or  pilot's  mate.  In  that  capacity  he  must 
serve  three  full  years  before  he  can  be  ad- 
mitted for  his  examination  for  a  license. 
After  this  he  must  pass  a  most  rigid  examina- 
tion on  all  points  of  seamanship  and  naviga- 
tion before  the  Board  of  Pilot  Commissioners, 
and  show  complete  and  exact  knowledge  of 
the  tides,  rips  and  sands  and  all  other  phe- 
nomena for  many  miles  out  from  the  piers  of 
the  East  and  North  Eivers. 

But  even  after  the  candidate  has  received 
his  license,  he  is  sometimes  forced  to  wait 
years,  until  some  pilot  happens  to  die  and 


» 


152  THE   SEA   EOVEES 

leave  a  vacancy  for  him.  The  first  year  of 
pilotage  he  is  granted  a  license  to  pilot  ves- 
sels drawing  less  than  sixteen  feet.  If  he 
gives  satisfaction,  the  following  year  he  is 
permitted  to  take  charge  of  vessels  drawing 
eighteen  feet.  If  he  passes  a  satisfactory 
examination  the  third  year,  he  then  receives 
a  full  license,  entitling  him  to  pilot  vessels  of 
any  draught,  and  is  then  first  called  a  branch 
or  full  pilot.  On  receiving  his  license,  the 
pilot  must  give  bonds  for  the  proper  dis- 
charge of  his  duty,  and  he  is  liable  to  heavy 
fines  if  he  declines  to  fill  a  vacancy  or  board 
a  vessel  making  signals  for  a  pilot.  Pilots 
are  paid  for  their  work  by  the  foot,  the 
charges  varying  according  to  the  draught. 
For  a  ship  drawing  from  twenty-one  to  twenty- 
eight  feet  they  receive  $4.88  a  foot,  and  for 
one  drawing  six  to  thirteen  and  one-half  feet 
$2.78  a  foot,  these  rates  being  slightly  in- 
creased in  winter. 

A  cruise  on  a  New  York  pilot-boat,  however 
brief,  is  an  experience  sure  to  be  remembered. 
When  a  pilot-boat  starts  out  on  a  hunt  for 


THE  OCEAN  PILOT  153 

ships,  it  is  decided  in  what  order  its  half- 
dozen  pilots  shall  take  the  prizes,  and  the 
man  who  is  to  board  the  first  one  is  placed 
in  command.  The  other  pilots,  meanwhile, 
take  their  ease  as  best  suits  their  taste,  the 
seaman 's  work  being  done  by  a  crew  of  sailors 
hired  for  the  purpose.  One  pilot,  however,  is 
always  on  the  lookout  for  sails,  and  a  lands- 
man is  compelled  to  marvel  at  the  certainty 
with  which  these  ocean  scouts  discharge  the 
task  of  sighting  vessels,  for  often  they  are 
able  to  tell  the  name  of  a  steamship  before 
unaccustomed  eyes  can  discern  aught  but  a 
waste  of  waters  and  a  wide  expanse  of  sky. 
Still,  a  part  of  this  skill  may  be  due  to  the 
fact  that  pilots  are  always  posted  before  go- 
ing out  as  to  what  vessels  are  expected,  and 
from  what  direction  they  are  coming,  the 
watch  being  made  all  the  keener  by  the  fact 
that  the  bigger  the  ship  the  bigger  is  the 
pilot's  pay.  A  ship,  moreover,  must  take  a 
pilot  going  out  from  the  same  boat  that  fur- 
nishes the  pilot  going  into  port,  while  if  a  cap- 
tain refuses  a  pilot  he  must  pay  full  pilotage, 


154  THE    SEA   BOVEKS 

and  thus  contribute  his  tithe  to  the  support  of 
the  system.  This  latter  rule  seems,  at  first 
glance,  a  curious  provision,  but  it  is  defend- 
ed on  the  ground  that  without  it  the  business 
would  not  be  remunerative  enough  for  really 
competent  men  to  engage  in  it,  and  that  with 
unskilled  pilots  the  annual  losses  would  be 
greatly  in  excess  of  what  they  are  at  present. 
When  a  ship  is  sighted  by  daylight,  a  long 
blue  burgee  is  hoisted  to  the  peak  of  the  pilot- 
boat,  which  means,  "Do  you  want  a  pilot?" 
If  there  is  no  responsive  signal,  it  is  taken 
for  granted  that  the  answer  is  "Yes,"  but 
if  a  jack  is  hoisted  the  watchers  know  that 
the  vessel  has  already  been  boarded  by  a 
pilot  from  some  boat  that  has  sailed  farther 
away  from  port  in  the  hunt  for  a  ship.  When 
a  ship  is  sighted  at  night  she  is  signalled  by 
means  of  a  torch  charged  with  benzine  and 
giving  forth  an  intense  light.  Seen  from  the 
other  vessel  the  effect  is  startling,  the  white 
light  illuminating  every  sail  and  spar  of  the 
pilot-boat,  so  that  it  stands  out,  its  number 


THE  OCEAN  PILOT  155 

clearly  visible  upon  the  mainsail,  a  gray  spec- 
ter against  the  night's  background. 

Should  the  answering  signal  be  favorable, 
there  follows  a  scene  of  great  excitement  on 
the  deck  of  the  pilot-boat.  At  first  sight  of 
the  ship,  the  pilot  due  to  take  the  prize  dives 
down  to  the  cabin,  sheds  his  working  clothes 
and  dons  a  suit  of  sober  black,  and  by  the 
time  it  is  known  he  is  wanted,  he  is  ready  to 
be  transferred  to  his  charge.  Taking  on  a 
pilot  is  not  without  its  perils.  The  yawl 
nearly  always  pitches  and  tumbles  in  most 
uncomfortable  fashion,  while  the  ship  is 
rarely  if  ever  brought  to  a  full  stop,  and  the 
pilot,  watching  his  chance,  must  grasp  the 
rope  ladder  let  down  its  side,  and  scramble 
aboard  as  best  he  can.  Sometimes  he  gets  a 
ducking,  and  if  the  weather  is  tempestuous  he 
is  pretty  certain  to  be  drenched,  but  for  that 
he  cares  not  a  jot,  and  he  is  sure  to  show  a 
smiling  face  to  captain  and  passengers  when 
finally  he  sets  foot  on  deck.  Dropping  a  pilot 
from  an  outgoing  vessel  is  often  more  hazard- 
ous, especially  in  stormy  weather,  than  his 


156  THE   SEA   ROVERS 

transfer  the  other  way.  Then  he  must  de- 
scend the  rope  ladder  and  jump  for  the  boat 
in  the  nick  of  time,  for  to  miscalculate  in  the 
least  the  position  of  the  little  shell  means  a 
ducking  almost  certainly,  and  possibly  a 
watery  grave. 

A  peril,  however,  more  feared  by  pilots 
than  the  one  I  have  been  describing,  is  the 
dreaded  lee  shore ;  and  with  reason,  as  a  story 
told  by  a  veteran  ocean  pathfinder  will  show. 
On  a  still  afternoon  in  midsummer  the  crew  of 
a  pilot-boat  sighted  a  ship  off  Fire  Island, 
some  five  miles  away.  In  the  dead  calm  pre- 
vailing the  only  way  to  board  her  was  to 
row  over  the  distance.  There  would  be  lit- 
tle danger  in  doing  this  if  the  wind  did  not 
spring  up  and  the  ship  sail  away,  so  the  yawl 
was  lowered  and  headed  for  the  distant  mer- 
chantman. But  as  night  was  closing  in,  and 
ere  the  yawl  had  come  within  hailing  distance 
of  the  ship,  of  a  sudden  the  breeze  sprang 
up,  and  the  vessel  making  sail,  glided  slowly 
over  the  horizon  line.  The  breeze  grew  into 
a  gale,  and  in  the  gathering  storm  and  gloom 


PILOT   SIGNALING    A   VESSEL 


THE  OCEAN  PILOT  157 

the  man  could  no  longer  discern  the  where- 
abouts of  the  pilot-boat.  Nor,  there  being  no 
compass  on  board  the  yawl,  could  they  deter- 
mine the  direction  in  which  they  were  being 
blown.  The  nearest  land  was  miles  away 
and  the  only  thing  that  could  be  done  was  to 
keep  the  boat's  head  to  the  wind  and  wait. 
Thus  the  minutes  lengthened  into  hours.  To- 
ward dawn,  when  the  night  was  darkest,  they 
heard  the  thunder  of  surf  on  the  reefs,  and  a 
little  later  felt  the  yawl  lifted  up  on  the  crest 
of  a  mighty  breaker  rushing  swiftly  toward 
the  land.  There  was  a  deafening  roar,  a 
crash,  a  whirl,  and  a  torrent  of  foam.  In  a 
twinkling  the  boat  was  capsized  and  the  poor 
fellows  were  struggling  in  the  surf.  One 
struck  a  rock  and  was  killed,  The  others, 
freed  from  the  receding  wave,  ran  up  the 
beach,  and  by  digging  their  hands  into  the 
sand  to  escape  the  deadly  undertow,  finally 
got  ashore,  drenched  and  exhausted. 

In  the  main,  however,  the  system  I  have 
been  describing  has  now  become  a  thing  of 
the  past.    Potent  causes  have  contributed  to 


158  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

this  result.  Formerly  pilot-boats  had  no  par- 
ticular stations  assigned  to  them,  and  boats 
have  been  known  to  cruise  as  far  north  as 
Sable  Island,  a  distance  of  six  hundred  miles, 
in  order  to  get  steamers  taking  the  northern 
courses.  In  the  same  way  pilot-boats  cruised 
long  distances  to  the  southward  and  straight 
out  to  sea  to  meet  the  incoming  steamers  and 
sailing  vessels.  Thus,  unrestrained  in  its 
movements  and  left  to  seek  out  its  own  salva- 
tion, each  boat  sought  to  outdo  the  other  in 
securing  work,  and  all  sorts  of  strategic  de- 
vices were  brought  into  play  in  order  to  first 
gain  the  side  of  an  incoming  vessel.  Pilots 
took  advantage  of  fog  and  night  in  order  to 
slip  by  a  rival,  while  jockeying  for  winds  and 
position  was  indulged  in  to  an  extent  that 
would  be  counted  extraordinary  in  a  yacht 
race. 

Competition,  however,  cut  down  earnings  to 
such  an  extent  that  there  came  a  time  when 
many  of  the  boats  were  no  longer  able  to  pay 
expenses.  Then  it  was  that  some  of  the  long- 
headed among  the  pilots,  casting  about  for  a 


THE  OCEAN  PILOT  159 

remedy  for  this  evil,  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  one  steam  pilot-boat  would  be  able  to  do 
the  work  of  three  or  four  sailboats.  It  was 
accordingly  decided  some  years  ago  that 
steamboats  should  gradually  replace  the  ex- 
isting fleet  of  sail.  With  this  innovation  came 
restrictions  regulating  the  cruising  grounds 
of  the  boats.  Instead  of  cruising  about  indis- 
criminately as  formerly,  each  boat  is  now  as- 
signed a  certain  beat.  An  imaginary  arc  has 
been  described  extending  from  Barnegat  to 
Fire  Island,  a  distance  of  seventy-five  miles, 
and  all  pilot  boats  are  expected  to  confine 
themselves  within  this  line.  Four  pilot-boats 
patrol  this  line,  each  covering  a  beat  of  about 
nineteen  miles.  Inside  of  the  circle  are  sta- 
tioned two  more  pilot-boats,  while  still  further 
in  is  a  boat  known  as  the  inner  pilot-boat. 
Just  off  the  bar  another  boat  is  stationed  to 
receive  the  pilots  dropped  by  outward-bound 
vessels.  When  a  boat  in  the  outer  circle  be- 
comes unmanned  or  disabled,  a  boat  from  the 
inner  circle  takes  its  place,  while  a  reserve 
boat  occupies  the  beat  left  vacant  on  the  in- 


160  THE   SEA  EOVERS 

ner  circle.  In  this  way  all  the  beats  are  con- 
stantly patrolled  in  an  efficient  and  economi- 
cal way.  Each  pilot  takes  his  turn  at  the 
service,  and  is  on  board  a  boat  cruising  on 
the  stations  three  days  in  seven,  a  moving 
contrast  to  the  offshore  service  of  other 
years,  when  a  boat  and  crew  were  frequently 
compelled  to  remain  at  sea  for  weeks  at  a 
time. 

Indeed,  under  the  new  system  of  pilotage, 
battles  with  cross-seas  and  gales  and  ex- 
posures to  snow,  cold  and  sleet,  while  cruising 
for  vessels  hundreds  of  miles  off  coast,  are 
fast  becoming  things  of  the  past,  and  for 
stories  of  collisions,  wrecks,  narrow  escapes 
and  strange  mishaps,  one  must  now  hark  back 
to  the  records  of  former  days.  Here,  how- 
ever, he  is  sure  to  encounter  many  a  tale  that 
quickens  the  pulse  and  stirs  the  blood.  Take 
the  case  of  the  Columbia,  run  down  by  the 
steamship  Alaska,  off  Fire  Island.  When  the 
Alaska  was  sighted,  the  pilot-boat  was  head- 
reaching  to  the  north  on  the  port  tack.  The 
wind  was  blowing  a  gale  from  the  northwest, 


THE  OCEAN  PILOT  161 

and  an  ugly  sea  was  running,  with  the 
weather  clear,  but  cold.  She  plunged  deeply 
into  the  heavy  sea,  and  heeled  to  the  force 
of  the  wind  until  her  lee  rail  was  awash.  The 
wind  whipped  off  the  top  of  the  waves  and 
filled  the  air  with  spray.  When  the  steamship 
sighted  the  boat  off  Fire  Island,  her  course 
was  changed  to  make  a  lee  for  the  boat  's  yawl. 
She  seemed  to  stop  when  the  yawl  was 
launched  and  two  men  and  a  pilot  went  over 
the  side  of  the  boat  and  dropped  into  her,  but 
ere  the  yawl  had  fairly  started  on  her  way 
the  liner,  of  a  sudden,  and  without  warning, 
forged  ahead.  The  surge  from  the  port  bow 
of  the  Alaska,  as  she  pitched  into  a  big  wave, 
capsized  the  boat,  and  threw  the  men  into 
the  water.  Before  anything  could  be  done  to 
save  them  the  bows  of  the  steamship  rose  and 
fell  again,  and,  hitting  the  pilot-boat,  cut  it 
in  two  and  crushed  the  decks  and  beams  to 
bits,  the  broken  timbers  being  swept  under 
the  bows  and  along  the  sides  as  the  steamship 
again  forged  ahead  and  passed  over  the  spot. 
Not  a  man  on  the  Columbia  was  saved. 


162  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

The  Sandy  Hook  pilot,  however,  never 
quails  in  the  face  of  danger  or  even  death,  as 
was  proved  at  the  stranding  of  the  packet 
boat,  John  Minturn,  almost  within  a  stone's 
throw  of  the  New  Jersey  beach  during  a 
frightful  hurricane  in  February,  1846.  There 
were  fifty-one  souls  on  board  the  Minturn, 
and  of  that  number  only  thirteen  escaped  to 
tell  the  story  of  that  fearful  night.  Its  hero, 
according  to  the  evidences  of  all,  was  Pilot 
Thomas  Freeborn,  who  to  the  very  last  strug- 
gled manfully  to  succor  the  hapless  women 
and  children  who  clung  to  the  deck  around 
him.  It  was  bitter  cold,  and  every  wave  that 
washed  over  the  stranded  ship  left  its  coat- 
ing of  ice  on  deck,  rigging,  passengers  and 
crew.  Freeborn  and  brave  Captain  Stark, 
who  was  forced  to  see  his  wife  and  children 
freeze  to  death  without  being  able  to  render 
them  assistance,  gave  up  their  own  clothing  in 
a  vain  attempt  to  protect  the  weaker  suffer- 
ers, and  when  days  afterward  the  pilot's  body 
was  found  washed  up  on  the  beach  it  was 
almost  naked,  while  that  of  a  woman,  which 


THE  OCEAN  PILOT  163 

lay  near-by,  was  carefully  wrapped  in  his 
pea-jacket. 

It  has  been  three-score  years  since  the 
wreck  of  the  Minturn,  but  in  every  year 
since  then  there  has  been  numbered  among 
the  members  of  the  Sandy  Hook  Pilot's  Asso- 
ciation scores  of  hardy  men,  who,  should  need 
come  to  them,  stood  ready  to  risk  their  lives 
and  die  as  bravely  as  did  Thomas  Freeborn. 
Pilot  Henry  Devere  proved  that  he  had  the 
same  heroic  fiber  in  his  makeup  when  he 
sailed  in  the  James  Funck,  before  the  Civil 
War.  A  brig  under  shortened  sails  was 
sighted  one  day,  and  when  the  yawl  of  the 
pilot-boat  drew  alongside,  Devere  hailed  a 
boy  at  the  wheel.  The  boy  seemed  to  be  stu- 
pefied, and  the  pilot  was  obliged  to  hail  him 
several  times  before  he  started  up,  leaned  for- 
ward into  the  companionway,  and  called 
feebly  to  somebody  below.  Then  a  gaunt  man 
came  on  deck  and  said  that  the  crew  had 
been  stricken  by  fever.  Most  people  in  the 
face  of  a  menace  of  this  sort  would  have 
turned  back,  but  Devere  was  not  that  kind  of 


164  THE   SEA   ROVERS 

man.  Instead,  he  went  on  board,  and,  with 
the  help  of  the  mate,  headed  the  vessel  toward 
Sandy  Hook.  The  captain  was  ill  in  his  state- 
room. The  body  of  a  dead  sailor  found  on 
deck  was  tied  in  mosquito  netting  and  dropped 
overboard.  The  boy  died  in  the  lower  bay, 
and  the  captain  off  the  Battery,  leaving  the 
mate  as  the  sole  survivor  of  the  crew.  The 
pilot  helped  to  furl  the  sails  and  make  the 
lines  fast,  and  only  left  the  stricken  vessel 
when  she  had  reached  her  moorings. 

The  stranding  of  the  Jesse  Carll  in  1889,  il- 
lustrates another  of  the  dangers  with  which 
pilots  sometimes  have  to  contend.  The  boat, 
having  discharged  one  of  her  five  pilots,  was 
standing  off  shore  near  Fire  Island,  when  she 
began  to  feel  the  force  of  an  advancing  south- 
ern cyclone,  and  early  in  the  evening  was  in 
what  sailors  call  " nasty  weather.' '  At  mid- 
night a  violent  thunder-storm  burst  overhead, 
and  the  increasing  wind  raised  a  furious  sea, 
but  Pilot  Gideon  Mapes,  in  charge  of  the  ves- 
sel, had  her  under  double-reefed  sails,  and 
standing  up  against  the  wind  and  waves  in 


THE  OCEAN  PILOT  165 

fine  shape.  Then  came  a  deluge  of  rain,  and 
the  wind  increased  to  hurricane  force.  Soon 
a  thick  mist  covered  the  water  and  shut  out 
everything  in  sight.  The  boat  reached  off 
and  on,  expecting  to  keep  out  of  shoal  water, 
but  all  efforts  failed.  Her  signals  of  dis- 
tress were  seen  by  the  life-saving  crew  on  the 
beach,  and  before  daylight  the  ten  men  on 
board  were  taken  ashore  in  boats.  When 
morning  came  an  effort  was  made  to  pull  the 
boat  off,  but  as  she  shifted  into  deeper  water 
she  filled,  a  hole  having  been  made  in  her  bot- 
tom. Then  the  pilots  abandoned  her,  but  she 
was  raised  and  repaired  a  few  weeks  later. 

Stories  like  these  are  what  the  pilots  tell 
in  their  idle  hours.  Searching  for  them  at 
such  a  time,  one  is  most  likely  to  find  them 
at  the  Pilots'  Club,  a  flourishing  social  or- 
ganization, which  has  roomy  quarters  just 
under  the  roof  of  a  big  office  building  within 
hailing  distance  of  the  Battery.  Here  at  all 
hours  of  the  day  a  score  or  more  of  pilots  are 
sure  to  be  sitting  about  spinning  yarns,  play- 
ing cards  and  checkers  and  reading  the  news- 


166  THE   SEA   ROVERS 

papers  and  magazines.  Their  well-furnished 
clubrooms  contain  a  great  number  of  pre- 
cious curios — relics  from  all  quarters  of  the 
globe.  There  are  firearms  of  curious  antique 
pattern;  autograph  letters  by  such  famous 
sea-dogs  as  Macdonough  and  Porter;  a  tiny 
chest  of  drawers  carved  from  one  of  the  tim- 
bers of  John  Paul  Jones'  ship,  the  Bon 
Homme  Richard;  a  portrait  of  Washington 
by  Stuart,  surrounded  by  two  large  Ameri- 
can flags,  and  a  model  of  the  pilot-boat  Sting- 
aree,  which  was  built  in  1810,  and  was  one 
of  the  most  famous  crafts  of  her  day. 

This  model  shows  that  the  years  have 
wrought  great  changes  in  the  building  and 
rigging  of  pilot-boats.  In  o]d  times  the  boats 
simply  carried  mainsail,  foresail,  and  fore- 
staysail  and  jib.  They  had  no  foretopmast. 
and  on  their  maintopmast  carried  a  flying 
gaff-topsail,  which  was  hoisted  from  the  deck. 
Now  the  boats  have  both  fore  and  maintop- 
masts,  and  each  carries  a  mainsail,  foresail, 
forestaysail,  jib,  jib-topsail,  maintopsail  and 
staysail  and  fore  and  main  standing-gaff  top- 


THE  OCEAN  PILOT  167 

sails,  which  give  them  an  immense  spread  of 
sail,  compared  with  that  used  by  the  boats  of 
earlier  times.  A  schooner-rigged  pilot-boat 
costs  from  $15,000  to  $16,000.  That  was  about 
the  cost  of  the  Caldwell  H.  Colt,  a  good  ex- 
ample of  the  typical  pilot-boat.  She  is  eighty- 
five  feet  long  with  twenty-one  feet  beam,  61.43 
tons,  custom-house  register,  and  a  rig  as  trim 
and  jaunty  as  that  of  an  ordinary  yacht. 
The  pride,  however,  at  present  writing,  of  the 
New  York  Sandy  Hook  fleet  is  the  New  York, 
built  of  steel,  propelled  by  steam,  and  able 
to  stand  as  much  buffeting  in  cyclonic  seas  as 
the  stanchest  of  the  liners.  She  was  built  on 
the  Delaware  from  designs  by  A.  Cary  Smith, 
is  155  feet  long,  28  feet  beam,  19  feet  7  inches 
deep,  and  is  driven  by  a  compound  surface- 
condensing  engine  of  100  horse-power.  Her 
pole  masts  are  of  steel,  and  she  spreads  on 
them  enough  canvas  to  steady  her.  The  New 
York  has  accommodations  for  twenty-four 
pilots,  who  fare  more  luxuriously  than  they 
ever  did  on  any  of  the  old  sailing  craft.  They 
have  a  smoking-room  in  a  separate  steel  deck- 


168  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

house,  aft  of  the  engine-room,  fitted  up  like  a 
similar  room  on  an  ocean  steamship,  while  the 
lifeboats  in  which  they  leave  the  New  York 
to  board  incoming  vessels  are  hoisted  and 
lowered  by  a  steam  derrick  in  less  than  a  min- 
ute. It  is  intended  that  in  a  few  years  the 
entire  fleet  shall  be  made  up  of  vessels  equal 
if  not  superior  to  the  New  York. 


CHAPTER  Vn 


THE  DEEP-SEA  DIVER 


There  is  something  about  the  occupation  of 
the  diver  that  strongly  appeals  to  the  imagi- 
nation, and  with  reason,  for  working  fathoms 
below  the  surface  of  the  water,  in  semi-dark- 
ness, dependent  upon  a  rickety  pump  for  the 
breath  of  life,  his  trade  is  at  best  a  perilous 
and  precarious  ones.  Perhaps,  that  is  why 
divers  as  a  class  are  opposed  to  taking  ap- 
prentices, and  that  a  majority  of  the  men  who 
drift  into  the  calling  do  so  by  accident.  Most 
divers,  if  you  question  them,  will  tell  you  that 
the  best,  if  not  the  only  way  to  acquire  their 
art  is  to  put  on  a  diving  suit,  go  down 
into  the  depths,  and  learn  the  business  for 
yourself. 

That  was  what  a  diver  who  was  preparing 


170  THE   SEA   ROVERS 

for  work  in  the  East  River  said  to  me,  and, 
fitting  the  action  to  the  word,  I  asked  him  to 
loan  me  his  suit,  and  permit  me  to  try  my 
'prentice  hand  at  the  business.  He  protested 
goodnaturedly,  but  finally  yielding,  brought 
out  his  suit,  and  helped  me  to  put  it  on.  The 
outfit  in  which  I  speedily  found  myself  ac- 
coutred, consists  of  two  suits,  one  within  the 
other,  and  both  of  india-rubber.  The  stock- 
ings, trousers  and  shirt  are  all  made  together 
as  one  garment,  which  the  wearer  enters  at 
the  neck,  feet  first.  The  hands  are  left  bare, 
the  wristbands  of  the  rubber  shirtsleeves 
tightly  compressing  the  wrists.  There  is  a 
copper  breastplate,  bearing  upon  its  outer 
convex  surface  small  screws  adjusted  to 
holes  in  the  neck  of  the  shirt,  which  by 
means  of  nuts  fastened  upon  the  screws,  is 
held  so  securely  in  place  as  to  render  the 
entire  dress  from  the  neck  downward  abso- 
lutely air  and  water-tight.  Fitting  with  equal 
closeness  to  the  breastplate  is  a  helmet,  com- 
pletely inclosing  the  head  and  supplied  with 
three  glasses,  one  in  front  and  one  on  each 


THE  DEEP-SEA  DIVER  171 

side,  to  enable  the  diver  to  look  in  any  di- 
rection. Finally,  for  his  feet  there  is  a  pair 
of  very  thick  leather  shoes,  made  to  lace  up 
the  front,  and  supplied  with  heavy  leaden 
soles  to  prevent  him  from  turning  feet  upper- 
most in  the  water. 

When,  with  my  friend's  aid,  I  had  donned 
this  curious-looking  dress,  he  placed  across 
my  shoulders  ropes  sustaining  two  leaden 
weights,  one  hanging  at  my  breast  and  the 
other  at  my  back.  Sometimes  in  very  strong 
currents  it  is  necessary  to  make  the  weights 
which  the  diver  carries  extraordinarily  heavy. 
Such  was  the  case  with  those  hanging  over 
my  shoulders  on  the  occasion  of  my  first  dive. 
While  the  diving  dress  I  wore  weighed  of 
itself  nearly  two  hundred  pounds,  yet,  much 
to  my  surprise,  when  once  below  the  surface, 
I  did  not  find  the  burden  I  sustained  in  wear- 
ing it  any  more  than  I  did  that  of  my  ordinary 
clothing  when  out  of  the  water.  It  also 
seemed  marvelous  to  me,  after  daylight  had 
swiftly  merged  into  the  twilight  of  the  depths, 
that  though   I   was    several  fathoms  under 


172  THE    SEA   EOVERS 

water  my  breathing  was  free  and  uncon- 
strained, for  an  air-pump  worked  by  two  men 
supplies  the  diver  with  air,  which  passes  into 
his  helmet  through  a  hose  at  the  back.  Near 
the  place  of  its  entrance  is  a  spring  valve  for 
its  escape.  This  can  be  controlled  by  the 
diver,  but  he  usually  sets  it  before  going  into 
the  water  and  seldom  disturbs  it  afterward, 
since  the  pressure  of  the  air  being  greater 
than  that  of  the  water  a  surplus  of  the  former 
readily  escapes. 

When  the  valve  proves  insufficient  to  per- 
mit the  escape  of  all  the  dead  air  the  diver  can 
open  in  his  breast-plate  a  similar  spring  valve 
intended  only  for  such  an  emergency.  He 
can  also  regulate  the  amount  of  air  pumped 
to  him  by  signals  on  the  air-hose  to  the  men 
engaged  in  pumping,*  one  pull  meaning  more 
and  two  pulls  less  air.  These  signals  by 
means  of  the  air-hose  are  generally  used  by 
all  divers,  but  each  diver  has  also  his  own 
private  code  of  signals  upon  the  life-line, 
which  is  always  fastened  to  his  waist,  and  by 
which  he  is  drawn  up  out  of  the  water.    These 


THE  DEEP-SEA  DIVER  173 

signals  each  diver  writes  down  very  carefully 
and  gives  to  the  man  in  charge  of  the  life- 
line. By  means  of  these  he  can,  without  com- 
ing to  the  surface,  send  for  tools,  material  or 
anything  needed  for  the  work  he  has  in  hand. 
When  a  lengthy  communication  is  to  be  made 
the  diver  often  sends  up  for  a  slate  and  writes 
what  he  wishes  to  say.  Old  divers  declare 
that  it  is  just  as  easy  to  read  and  write  under 
the  water  as  it  is  out  of  it,  all  objects  being 
greatly  magnified. 

The  only  unpleasant  sensation  of  my  stay 
below  was  a  slight  drumming  in  the  ears — 
walking  under  the  water  I  found  an  easy  mat- 
ter— and  when  hauled  to  the  surface  I  de- 
clared my  first  attempt  at  diving  a  wholly  suc- 
cessful one.  However,  the  man  whose  suit 
I  had  borrowed,  smiled  at  my  enthusiasm,  and 
declared  with  something  akin  to  contempt 
that  there  was  a  good  deal  of  difference  be- 
tween deep-sea  diving  and  grubbing  about  the 
East  Eiver  for  a  lost  anchor.  I  learned  be- 
fore we  parted  that  he  was  a  deep-sea  diver 
forced  for  the  moment  to  accept  whatever  task 


174  THE    SEA   EOVERS 

came  to  hand,  but  there  was  truth  in  what  he 
said ;  and  I  am  also  convinced,  after  talks  with 
a  dozen  members  of  his  fraternity,  that  nei- 
ther a  single  descent  nor  even  many  descents 
into  the  depths,  can  give  one  an  adequate  idea 
of  the  weird  strangeness  of  a  diver's  life. 
That  can  come  only  from  the  cumulative  ex- 
perience of  a  lifetime. 

Almost  all  the  submarine  work  on  the  At- 
lantic coast  is  done  by  divers  living  in  New 
York  or  Boston.  There  are  about  as  many 
skilled  divers  in  Boston  as  New  York — per- 
haps twenty  in  each  city.  The  pay  of  a  skilled 
diver  is  five  dollars  a  day  of  four  hours  or 
less.  In  that  time  a  man  may  descend  half 
a  dozen  times,  or  he  may  descend  once  and 
stay  four  hours,  but  be  his  period  of  labor 
long  or  short,  it  counts  as  a  day.  If  at  the 
end  of  four  hours  he  descends  again  that  de- 
scent counts  as  another  day's  labor.  The 
diver's  assistant  receives  three  dollars.  He 
is  a  skilled  man,  whose  business  it  is  to  man- 
age the  life-line  and  the  hose,  and  who  some- 
times becomes  a  diver.    The  pumpers,  who 


THE  DEEP-SEA  DIVER  175 

run  the  pump  that  keeps  the  diver  supplied 
with  air,  are  each  paid  two  dollars  a  day. 
They  are  not  skilled  workmen  and  seldom  de- 
velop into  divers. 

Probably  a  third  of  the  New  York  divers 
do  not  work  for  wages.  These  are  men  who 
own  their  outfits  and  prefer  to  work  by  the 
job.  Some  of  the  self -employing  divers  enjoy 
good  incomes  from  their  labors.  As  a  rule, 
a  diver  of  this  class  goes  down,  looks  at  a 
sunken  vessel,  and  then  states  what  he  will 
charge  to  raise  her.  Diver  Victor  Hinston 
was  paid  $150  a  day  for  locating  the  sunken 
steamship  City  of  Chester,  and  Captain  An- 
thony Williams,  having  raised  the  schooner 
Dauntless  in  two'  days,  received  $750  for  his 
time  and  trouble.  The  same  diver,  having 
repaired  with  iron  plates  and  raised  in  four 
days  the  steamer  Meredith,  ashore  near  Jere- 
mie,  in  Hayti,  demanded  and  was  paid  $7,500 
for  his  work.  The  divers  of  New  York  live 
much  as  other  citizens  of  the  metropolis.  A 
majority  of  them  are  native  Americans,  with 
homes,  wives  and  children.       They  are,  of 


176  THE    SEA   EOVEES 

course,  absent  from  home  a  great  deal  and 
on  short  notice,  for  divers  from  New  York 
are  not  only  sent  all  over  the  eastern  coast 
of  the  continent,  but  even  to  the  Great  Lakes 
and  the  interior  rivers,  most  of  their  work 
lying  beyond  the  city. 

Abram  Onderdonk,  when  he  died  not  long 
ago,  was  the  oldest  deep-sea  diver  in  this 
country.  During  forty  of  the  nearly  seventy 
years  of  his  life  he  was  continuously  engaged 
in  the  pursuit  of  his  calling,  and  it  carried 
him  to  nearly  every  part  of  the  globe. 
Captain  Abe,  as  his  friends  called  him, 
counted  the  swordfish  as  the  gravest 
danger  members  of  his  craft  have  to 
fear.  This  fish,  which  has  a  short  bony  sword 
almost  as  strong  as  steel,  protruding  from  its 
head,  speeds  along  through  the  water,  charg- 
ing dead  ahead  and  never  veering  from  its 
course  for  anything  save  a  rocky  ledge  or  the 
iron  hull  of  a  steamship.  If  it  strikes  a 
wooden  craft,  its  sword  seldom  fails  to  cut 
clean  through  the  vessel 's  side.  Should  a 
man  be  attacked  by  it  certain  death  awaits 


THE  DEEP-SEA  DIVER  177 

him.  Diver  Onderdonk  himself  never  en- 
countered but  one  of  these  creatures,  and  that 
was  a  young  one  whose  sword  had  not  yet 
hardened.  He  was  at  work  on  the  deck  of  a 
sunken  vessel,  when  he  saw  the  fish  coming 
from  a  distance,  and  heading  straight  toward 
him.  He  took  a  tighter  grip  upon  the  ax 
which  he  held  in  his  hand,  and  made  ready 
for  attack,  but,  to  his  surprise  and  relief,  the 
fish,  never  swerving  from  its  course,  glided 
past  him  out  of  his  guard's  range,  and  a  mo- 
ment later  disappeared. 

Captain  Abe  often  encountered  sharks 
under  water,  but  declared  that,  as  a  rule,  there 
is  little  to  be  feared  from  them.  A  former 
mate  of  his  named  March,  however,  once  had 
an  ugly  experience  with  these  creatures.  The 
diver  in  question  was  at  work  in  a  wreck 
which  had  been  loaded  with  live  cattle.  When 
she  had  been  at  the  bottom  for  a  month  or  so 
the  cattle  became  light  and  began  rising  to 
the  surface.  The  locality  was  infested  with 
sharks,  which  quickly  gathered  round  the 
hatchway,  seizing  the  carcasses  as  they  came 


178  THE    SEA   EOVERS 

out  and  following  them  to  the  surface.  Some 
of  the  cattle  had  been  tied,  and  these  floating 
out  to  their  ropes '  end,  were  torn  to  pieces  by 
the  sharks,  which  soon  began  to  fight  among 
themselves,  with  the  diver  an  unwilling  wit- 
ness to  their  struggles.  March,  hesitating 
to  ascend  for  fear  he  might  be  attacked,  and 
afraid  to  remain  below  lest  the  snap  of  a 
shark's  mouth  should  sever  his  air  hose,  in 
the  end  gave  the  signal  to  be  hauled  up,  and 
the  next  instant  was  jerked  into  and  through 
the  school  of  sharks.  He  came  out  of  the 
water  maimed  for  life,  as  in  his  upward  pass- 
age a  shark  snapped  at  him  and  took  off  his 
right  hand,  thus  rendering  him  incapable  of 
further  service  as  a  diver. 

Another  of  Captain  Abe's  old  mates,  Mc- 
Gavern  by  name,  while  at  work  in  New  Zea- 
land waters,  had  an  equally  harrowing,  al- 
though fortunately  less  harmful,  encounter 
with  that  most  formidable  of  all  marine  mon- 
sters, the  devil  fish.  The  diver  was  laying 
some  wharf-blocks  when  suddenly  surprised 
by  his  uncanny  foe.     Despite  his  struggles — 


THE  DEEP-SEA  DIVER  179 

and  he  was  a  giant  in  statnre  and  strength — 
the  monster  quickly  and  completely  overpow- 
ered him.  He  was  locked  in  the  tremendous 
claws  of  the  devil  fish,  and  fastened  helpless 
against  a  submerged  spile.  McGavern  real- 
ized his  peril,  and  kept  quiet  until  his  assail- 
ant, whose  arms  measured  nearly  nine  feet, 
loosened  his  hold.  Then  he  signalled  to  be 
drawn  up,  and  came  to  the  surface  with  the 
writhing  creature  still  clinging  to  his  back. 

Captain  Abe  served  before  the  mast  in  his 
youth,  and  I  find  that,  other  things  being 
equal,  sailors  make  the  best  divers  of  all. 
Their  former  experience  is  apt  to  render 
them  cool  and  quick-witted  in  the  presence  of 
danger,  and  their  knowledge  of  a  ship's  rig- 
ging and  construction  proves  of  untold  value 
to  them  in  their  work.  To  his  training  as  a 
sailor  Captain  Charles  Smith,  a  well-known 
Boston  diver,  probably  owed  his  truly  mar- 
velous escape  from  death  when  overtaken  by 
accident  while  at  work  on  the  sunken  hull  of 
the  Clara  Post,  in  the  harbor  of  Bridgeport, 
Conn.,  a  few  years  ago.    The  wreck  lay  six- 


180  THE    SEA   KOVERS 

teen  fathoms  deep,  and  when  Captain  Smith 
descended  to  examine  it,  he  found  that  the 
masts  had  gone  by  the  board,  and  that  the 
deck  had  been  torn  off  by  the  waves,  while  the 
cross  timbers  strewed  with  the  wreckage, 
hung  over  the  decks  and  into  the  hold.  Cap- 
tain Smith  began  to  cut  them  away,  when 
suddenly  the  tangled  mass  shifted  and  fell 
part  way  in  the  hold,  catching  him  with  it  and 
prisoning  him  as  in  a  vise.  The  diver  could 
not  see  far  in  the  deep  water  in  which  he  was 
at  work,  and  finding  himself  pinned  in,  how 
he  could  not  tell,  he  pulled  the  life-line 
three  times — the  signal  that  his  life  was  in 
peril.  He  felt  himself  rising  a  few  feet; 
then  all  the  wreckage  fell  in  upon  him,  pinning 
him  more  securely  than  before.  Worse  still, 
when  he  tried  to  free  himself,  he  found  that 
the  air-pipe  had  encountered  some  unseen  ob- 
struction, and  that  to  attempt  to  move  about 
would  shut  off  his  supply  of  air.  The  peril 
was  one  that  made  each  moment  seem  like 
eternity. 
Meanwhile  the  diver's  assistants  were  try- 


A   DIVER  READY   TO   DESCEND 


THE  DEEP-SEA  DIVER  181 

ing  to  discover  what  had  happened  to  him. 
It  seemed  to  them  that  the  signal  to  hanl  np 
had  been  instantly  followed  by  one  to  lower, 
and  then  by  one  to  stop.  The  men  at  the 
life-line,  confused  at  these  apparently  contra- 
dictory commands,  ordered  the  derrick  to 
haul  on  the  blocks.  Nothing  yielded  to  the 
strain,  and  the  men  at  the  pumps  labored  until 
they  were  exhausted,  and  had  to  give  way 
to  others,  but  still  no  signs  of  release.  A  new 
danger  now  threatened  the  imprisoned  man. 
In  catching  hold  of  some  iron  bolts  he  had  cut 
a  small  hole  in  the  valve  of  one  of  his  rub- 
ber gloves,  and  water,  filling  the  glove,  was 
slowly  oozing  past  the  clamps  at  the  wrist, 
and  creeping  up  the  arm.  It  seemed  to  the 
helpless  diver,  held  fast  in  the  tide-swept 
mass,  that  he  would  soon  be  strangled  or 
crushed  to  death.  Confused  by  the  great  air 
pressure  in  his  helmet,  he  had  about  con- 
cluded that  his  end  had  come,  when — unlooked 
for  relief — the  wreckage  gave  a  lurch,  and  he 
found  that  he  could  climb  up  to  one  of  the 
deck  timbers.      He  grasped  his  ax,  and  was 


182  THE    SEA   KOVERS 

hewing  desperately  for  freedom,  when  sud- 
denly the  whole  mass  broke  away,  and  began 
to  rise  rapidly,  carrying  the  diver,  now  head 
downward,  with  it.  His  queer  ascent  did 
not  consume  more  than  ten  seconds,  but  it  was 
long  enough  for  him  to  live  over  in  memory 
all  the  events  of  a  lifetime  of  two-score  years. 
At  first  his  comrades  failed  to  discover  him  in 
the  mass  of  tangled  material,  and  their  sur- 
prise can  be  imagined  when  he  shot  up 
through  the  wreckage,  feet  first.  Captain 
Smith  described  this  as  his  closest  call  to 
death's  door,  "and"  he  added,  "I  have 
peeped  through  the  keyhole  pretty  often. 9 ' 

Captain  Smith's  adventure  reminded  a 
brother  diver,  in  whose  presence  it  was  told, 
of  a  narrow  escape  of  his  own.  It  occurred 
while  he  was  putting  some  copper  on  the  bot- 
tom of  a  steamer  in  dock.  ' '  I  took  some  plate 
down  with  me,"  he  said,  "and  worked  for  a 
while  on  one  side  of  the  hull,  after  which  I 
started  in  to  put  some  plates  on  the  other  side. 
The  vessel  was  about  three  feet  off  the  bot- 
tom, and  I  crawled  underneath,  dragging  the 


THE  DEEP-SEA  DIVER  183 

plates  behind  me.  After  I  had  been  at  work 
for  an  hour  or  so  I  noticed  that  my  air  was 
getting  short,  but  when  I  tried  to  get  under 
the  keel  again  to  be  hauled  up,  I  found  the 
steamer  on  the  bottom  and  squeezing  my  air- 
hose  between  its  keel  and  the  ground.  The 
tide  was  ebbing  and  the  hull  had  gradually 
sunk  until  it  was  almost  aground.  I  had  for- 
gotten all  about  the  tide,  and  when  I  pulled 
the  hose  it  refused  to  move  an  inch.  If  the 
bottom  had  been  soft  it  would  not  have  mat- 
tered so  much,  but  it  was  rock,  and  the  hose 
was  gripped  like  a  vise.  There  was  nothing 
to  do  but  wait;  if  she  fell  any  lower  the  air 
would  be  entirely  shut  off  and  I  would  have 
to  die.  Not  till  my  last  hour  shall  I  forget 
the  torture  of  those  few  minutes  while  I 
waited  to  see  whether  it  rose  or  fell.  My  head 
felt  as  though  it  was  bursting,  and  my  nose 
and  ears  were  bleeding.  I  took  heart,  how- 
ever, when  the  air  began  to  freshen,  for  I 
knew  then  that  the  tide  had  turned,  and  that 
the  hull  was  rising.  There  was  plenty  of  time 
for  me  to  recover  my  nerve  before  it  was 


184  THE   SEA  EOVEES 

high  enough  off  the  bottom  for  me  to  crawl 
under,  but  I  did  not  get*  it  back.  Instead,  I 
stood  there  shaking  like  one  stricken  with 
palsy  until  I  could  squeeze  under  the  bottom 
and  give  the  signal  to  be  hauled  up.  I  reached 
the  surface  in  a  half -fainting  condition,  and 
was  sick  for  weeks  afterward.  When  I  did 
recover  it  was  with  hearing  permanently 
impaired.' ' 

Diving  in  the  Great  Lakes  is  attended  with 
even  greater  perils  than  those  I  have  just 
been  describing.  In  Lake  Huron,  opposite 
the  entrance  of  Thunder  Bay,  a  large  buoy 
marks  the  spot  where,  nearly  twenty-five 
fathoms  deep,  lies  the  wreck  of  a  once  famous 
lake  vessel,  which  sank  while  sixty  of  its  pas- 
sengers were  still  in  their  berths,  not  one  of 
whom  evermore  made  sign.  The  steamer 
took  down  with  it  when  it  sank  not  only  that 
precious  human  freight,  but  $300,000  in  gold 
coin  and  five  hundred  tons  of  copper.  The 
sunken  steamer  was  the  Pewabic.  Bound 
down  the  lakes  from  Copper  Island,  then  the 
richest  known  deposit  of  pure  copper  in  the 


THE  DEEP-SEA  DIVER  185 

world,  it  collided  with  the  steamer  Meteor, 
bound  up  the  lakes,  and  sank  almost  instantly. 
Diving  apparatus  was  at  that  time  some- 
what crude  upon  the  lakes,  and  the  great 
depth  of  water  in  which  the  Pewabic  went 
down  made  it  out  of  the  question  to  attempt 
to  raise  it  or  to  recover  any  of  its  valuable 
cargo.  Twenty-five  years  after  the  wreck  the 
sunken  vessel  was  located  by  means  of  grap- 
pling irons,  and  a  Toledo  diver  ventured  to 
go  down  and  inspect  it.  He  was  hauled  up 
dead.  In  spite  of  his  fate,  two  other  divers, 
tempted  by  the  price  offered,  went  down  at 
different  times.  Neither  survived  the  ven- 
ture, and  until  1892  nothing  further  was  done 
toward  recovering  the  wealth  tying  in  the 
wrecked  Pewabic.  Then  a  noted  diver,  Oliver 
Peliky  by  name,  who  had  with  apparatus  of 
his  own  devising  done  safer  work  in  deeper 
water  than  any  other  diver  on  the  lakes  had 
ever  been  able  to  withstand,  announced  his 
willingness  to  go  down  to  the  wreck.  He  was 
taken  to  the  spot,  the  wreck  was  located  by 
grapples  and  Peliky  went  down.      He  was 


186  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

below  twenty  minutes  and  then  signalled  to 
be  drawn  up.  When  he  reached  the  surface 
he  said  he  had  experienced  no  great  incon- 
venience, had  gone  into  the  wreck,  and  was 
enthusiastic  in  his  belief  that  he  could  do  the 
work  that  was  necessary  to  recover  the  cargo. 
He  went  down  again,  and  for  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  answered  every  signal.  Then  he  failed 
to  respond.  The  men  on  the  tender  pulled 
on  the  life-line.  It  had  plainly  caught  on 
some  obstruction.  The  crew,  believing  that 
Peliky  was  dead,  backed  the  steamer.  The 
jerk  loosened  the  life-line.  They  hauled  the 
diver  to  the  surface^  His  armor  was  opened, 
as  if  burst  by  some  great  force.  The  diverr 
of  course,  was  dead.  Since  then,  though 
handsome  inducements  have  been  held  out  to 
various  divers,  no  further  attempt  has  been 
made  to  recover  the  treasure  that  has  lain  for 
more  than  a  generation  in  the  Pewabic's  hold. 
One  of  the  divers  with  whom  I  have  talked 
told  me  that  somehow  diving  took  the  life  out 
of  a  man,  and  that  he  had  never  known  a 
diver  who  did  much  smiling.    "I  have  an  im- 


THE  DEEP-SEA  DIVER  187 

pression  myself/ '  he  added,  "that  I  shall  go 
down  one  of  these  days  without  coming  up 
again.' '  In  truth,  before  my  wanderings 
among  them  were  ended,  I  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  divers,  as  a  class,  are  taciturn, 
grave,  sober-faced  men,  but  I  also  found  that 
the  calling  they  follow  has  its  humorous  as 
well  as  its  serious  side,  although  too  often 
the  humor  has  a  dash  of  the  grewsome  to  it, 
as  was  the  case  with  a  diver  who  went  down 
to  work  on  the  steamship  Viscaya,  sunk  in  a 
collision  off  Barnegat  Light.  It  was  a  diffi- 
cult job,  so  two  divers  were  sent  down — one 
of  them  to  remain  on  deck  in  sixty  feet  of 
water,  to  act  as  second  tender  to  the  other 
diver  who  went  below.  The  latter  had  been 
at  work  but  a  few  minutes  when  three  jerks 
came  over  the  life-line.  He  was  so  unnerved 
when  hauled  up  to  the  deck  that  he  forgot  that 
he  was  still  in  sixty  feet  of  water,  and  sig- 
nalled to  have  his  helmet  removed.  When 
both  divers  had  been  hauled  to  the  surface, 
he  said  that  while  he  was  working  through  a 
gangway,  he  had  seen  two  huge  objects  com- 


188  THE    SEA   BOVERS 

ing  toward  him;  and  nothing  could  dissuade 
him  from  the  belief  that  he  had  encountered 
two  submarine  ghosts — until  the  other  diver 
went  down  and  discovered  that  there  was  a 
mirror  at  the  end  of  the  gangway,  and  that 
the  diver  had  seen  the  reflection  of  his  own 
legs,  vastly  enlarged,  coming  toward  him. 

The  veteran  from  whom  I  had  this  story 
told  me  also  of  the  amusing  mistake  made  by 
a  diver,  who,  much  against  his  will,  had  been 
sent  down  to  recover  a  body  from  a  wreck. 
Some  divers  have  an  ineradicable  dread  of  the 
dead,  and  never  handle  them  when  they  can 
possible  avoid  it.  He  was  one  of  this  kind, 
and  the  water  being  very  thick,  he  went  grop- 
ing gingerly  about  in  the  cabin.  After  a 
lengthy  search  he  found  a  body,  and  fasten- 
ing a  line  around  it,  gave  the  signal  to  haul  it 
up.  When  he  followed  and  took  off  his  hel- 
met a  large  hog  lay  on  the  deck.  He  had 
tied  the  line  around  it,  thinking  it  was  the 
body  he  was  looking  for.  After  that  he  was 
always  called  the  ' '  pork ' '  diver.  His  former 
comrades  have  likewise  many  amusing  stories 


THE  DEEP-SEA  DIVEE         189 

to  relate  of  a  diver  of  other  days,  Tom  Brint- 
ley  by  name,  who,  though  a  competent  man 
and  a  good  fellow,  was  a  little  too  fond  of 
stimulants.  On  one  occasion  he  went  down 
while  in  his  cups,  and  the  men  above  not 
knowing  his  condition,  became  seriously 
alarmed  when  several  hours  passed  by  with- 
out their  receiving  any  signals  from  him  or 
any  response  to  those  they  made  to  him.  An- 
other diver,  sent  down  to  look  for  him,  found 
him  lying  on  his  back  at  the  bottom  of  the 
ocean,  sixty  feet  below  the  surface,  fast 
asleep ! 

The  bed  of  the  ocean  would  seem  to  most 
people  an  exceedingly  strange  place  in  which 
to  take  a  nap,  but  divers  live  in  a  world  of 
their  own— a  world  of  which  their  fellows 
know  little  or  nothing,  yet  abounding  at  every 
turn  with  curious,  beautiful,  and  indeed,  al- 
most incredible  sights.  Sometimes,  especially 
in  tropical  waters,  the  bottom  of  the  sea  is 
a  lovely  spectacle,  and  divers  grow  enthusi- 
astic when  they  describe  its  forests  of  kelp 
and  seaweed  gently  waving  in  the  tide,  which 


190  THE    SEA   KOVERS 

look  like  fairyland,  in  dim  light,  and  the 
bright-colored  fish  making  them  all  the  more 
beautiful.  Along  the  coast  of  the  Island  of 
Margueretta,  and  in  many  parts  of  the  Car- 
ibbean Sea,  there  are  submarine  scenes  of 
surpassing  beauty.  Often  the  bed  of  the 
ocean  is  as  smooth  and  firm  as  a  house  floor, 
and  the  water  as  transparent  as  crystal,  while 
the  white  sandy  bottom  acts  as  a  reflector  to 
the  bright  sunshine  above  the  surface.  In 
some  places  there  are  widespreading  pastures 
of  stumpy,  scrubby  marine  vegetation,  a 
growth  not  unlike  seaweed,  and  of  a  bluish 
gray  tinge.  There  are  also  clumps  of  fan- 
shaped  fungi,  of  a  spongy  consistency,  which 
when  dried  in  the  sun  are  exceedingly  beau- 
tiful. But  the  most  wonderful  growths  in 
these  gardens  of  Neptune  are  the  long  kelp 
tubas,  resembling  our  fresh-water  pond-lilies, 
only  of  much  larger  size.  Their  stems  are 
tough  and  hollow,  and  put  forth  pretty  blos- 
soms on  the  surface,  although  their  roots  are 
in  the  bed  of  the  ocean,  many  fathoms  below. 
In  the  West  Indies  and  the  Spanish  Main 


THE  DEEP-SEA  DIVER  191 

the  water  is  so  clear  and  transparent  that  the 
bottom  is  visible  at  a  depth  of  from  sixty  to 
a  hundred  feet  below  the  surface,  and  the 
scope  of  the  diver's  vision  is  seldom  less  than 
an  eighth  of  a  mile.  In  Northern  seas,  how- 
ever, especially  in  the  harbors  of  towns  and 
cities,  the  water  is  so  discolored  and  murky 
that  nothing  can  be  seen  at  about  twenty  feet 
from  the  surface,  a  disadvantage  which  calls 
for  the  exercise  of  the  gift  of  which  all  divers 
are  most  boastful — their  delicacy  of  touch. 
Indeed,  most  frequently  the  diver  must  do 
his  work  under  water  by  means  of  touch  only, 
and  when  one  considers  the  varied  tasks  he 
is  called  upon  to  perform,  pipe  laying,  build- 
ing, drilling  holes  in  rocks  and  charging  them 
with  dynamite  in  darkness,  looking  for  treas- 
ure, recovering  dead  bodies  and  sunken  car- 
goes, or  inspecting  all  parts  of  a  wrecked  ves- 
sel, buried  in  water  a  hundred  feet  deep,  it 
is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  he  should  be 
proud  of  any  special  skill  in  this  direction 
with  which  nature  and  practice  have  favored 
him.      With  some,  this  delicacy  of  touch  ber 


192  THE    SEA   KOVERS 

comes  in  time  almost  a  sixth  sense.  Diver 
C.  P.  Everett,  of  New  York,  is  one  of  these. 
Fonr  or  five  years  ago,  he  laid  a  submarine 
timber  foundation  of  twenty-eight  feet  long 
12  x  12  yellow  pine,  handling  it  alone.  First, 
the  pieces  were  weighted  to  sink;  and  then 
Everett  went  down  and  weighted  them  for 
handling,  for  without  weights  they  would,  of 
course,  have  immediately  risen  to  the  surface. 
Only  a  strong  man  can  become  or,  at  least, 
long  remain  a  successful  diver.  No  one  is 
fit  for  the  calling  who  suffers  from  headache, 
neuralgia,  deafness,  palpitation  of  the  heart, 
intemperance,  or  a  languid  circulation.  The 
pressure  of  the  atmosphere  increases  the 
lower  one  descends,  until  a  point  is  reached 
where  life  could  not  be  maintained.  The 
greatest  depth,  perhaps,  ever  reached,  was 
201  feet,  with  an  atmosphere  pressure  of  87 
pounds  to  the  square  inch.  A  diver  named 
Green  worked  in  145  feet  in  Lake  Ontario,  but 
he  was  paralyzed,  and  never  did  a  day's  work 
afterward.  Most  divers  do  not  care  to  work 
much  deeper  than  120  feet,  and  even  for 


THE  DEEP-SEA  DIVER  193 

30  or  40  feet,  a  moderate  depth,  considerable 
nerve  and  practice  are  requisite.  The  lower 
the  depth,  the  more  acute  the  pains  felt  in 
the  ears  and  about  the  eyes,  and  symptoms  of 
paralysis  become  more  pronounced.  An  asth- 
matic man,  on  the  other  hand,  may  be  cured 
by  diving,  the  constant  supply  of  fresh  air, 
and  the  pressure  which  drives  the  blood  so 
rapidly  opening  up  the  lungs.  Divers  as  a 
rule  cannot  stand  close  rooms,  being  so  ac- 
customed to  a  copious  supply  of  fresh  air  that 
they  must  have  plenty  of  it,  even  when  they 
are  above  water.  In  diving,  the  supply  of 
air  is  increased  according  to  the  depth.  At 
thirty  feet  below  the  surface  fifteen  pounds 
of  air  to  the  square  inch  is  used,  at  sixty  feet 
thirty  pounds,  and  so  on.  Still,  much  de- 
pends on  the  man,  and  some  divers  work  in 
eighty  feet  of  water  with  only  forty-five 
pounds. 

In  the  laying  of  masonry  under  the  water 
and  other  work  of  the  kind,  the  diving  dress 
is  usually  replaced  by  the  diving  bell.  This 
is  a  large  vessel  full  of  air,  but  open  at  the 


194  THE    SEA   BOVERS 

bottom,  fresh  air  being  pumped  into  it  by  air 
pumps.  It  is  furnished  with  seats,  and  a 
chain  passes  through  the  center,  by  which 
weights  can  be  raised  or  lowered.  The  div- 
ing bell  has  this  advantage  over  the  dress, 
that  several  men  can  work  in  company;  on 
the  other  hand,  should  an  accident  happen, 
more  lives  are  involved.  Some  years  ago 
the  chain  of  a  diving  bell  in  use  at  a  pier  in 
Dover,  England,  got  fouled  in  some  way  and 
its  occupants  found  themselves  in  a  most 
alarming  predicament.  However,  a  diver 
named  William  Wharlow,  donning  his  suit, 
descended,  crowbar  in  hand,  and  after  several 
hours  of  hard  work,  succeeded  in  freeing  the 
chain,  when  the  diving  bell  was  hauled  up  in 
safety. 

It  was  stated  a  little  while  ago  that  some 
divers  have  an  ineradicable  dread  of  the 
dead ;  many  will  not  have  anything  to  do  with 
them,  when  they  come  upon  them  by  accident 
they  will  be  unnerved  and  useless  for  the  rest 
of  the  day,  and  those  who  make  a  virtue  of 
necessity,  when  on  a  wreck  generally  insist 


THE  DEEP-SEA  DIVER  195 

upon  getting  the  bodies  out  first.  The  tem- 
perature of  the  water  always  tells  the  diver 
where  to  look  for  bodies  in  a  wreck;  if  it  is 
cold  they  will  be  on  the  floor  or  lying  in  the 
berths;  if  warm  they  rise  to  the  ceiling  or 
against  the  bottom  of  the  berth  above. 

The  diver  who  raised  the  tugboat  Bronx 
from  the  East  River  found  the  fireman  sit- 
ting in  a  chair  in  the  fire-room,  staring  into 
a  wave-quenched  furnace,  with  the  weird,  life- 
like expression  often  seen  in  the  wide-open 
eyes  of  the  drowned,  and  which  those  who 
have  encountered  it  declare  never  fails  to 
strain  the  nerves  of  the  strongest  man.  Other 
divers  relate  even  more  grewsome  experi- 
ences. When  the  diver,  employed  to  locate 
and  examine  the  steamship  City  of  Chester, 
entered  the  steerage,  the  first  object  that  met 
his  gaze  was  the  figure  of  a  man  standing 
upright,  entangled  in  a  pile  of  ropes.  The 
face  was  terribly  distorted  and  the  tongue, 
protruding,  hung  from  the  mouth,  while  the 
body  was  swollen  to  twice  its  natural  size. 
Going  a  little  further  aft  he  found  another 


196  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

victim  of  the  wreck,  who  had  fallen  on  his 
knees  and  grasped  a  third  man  around  the 
waist.  The  spectacle  so  affected  him  that 
he  signaled  to  be  hauled  to  the  surface,  where 
he  reported  what  he  had  seen,  and  refused 
to  again  go  below  until  accompanied  by  an- 
other diver. 

Captain  Abram  Onderdonk,  already  re- 
ferred to,  once  brought  up  a  dozen  bodies 
from  the  wreck  of  the  steamer  Albatross, 
sunk  in  the  Caribbean  Sea.  Some  of  these 
were  in  their  staterooms,  and  the  last  corpse 
was  that  of  a  young  woman.  He  found  her 
in  the  bed  lying  on  her  side,  her  eyes  wide 
open  and  staring  straight  ahead.  One  of  her 
arms  was  thrust  through  the  bed  slats,  with 
the  hand  clutching  the  berth  frame.  As  he 
loosened  her  grasp  the  body  turned,  then 
floated  to  an  almost  erect  position,  and  leaned 
over  toward  him  with  a  repelling  look.  The 
expression  of  the  face  and  eyes,  as  well  as  the 
attitude,  almost  unmanned  him,  but  in  a  mo- 
ment he  regained  his  nerve,  clasped  her  about 
the  waist  and  brought  her  to  the  surface.  The 


THE  DEEP-SEA  DIVER  197 

same  diver  was  employed  to  bring  the  dead 
from  the  wrecked  Sound  steamer  Stonington. 
Groping  about  one  of  the  staterooms,  for  he 
had  to  feel  his  way  in  the  darkness,  his  hand 
came  in  contact  with  a  corpse,  which  he  took 
and  carried  to  the  surface.  It  proved  to  be 
a  woman,  and  clasped  to  her  bosom  so  firmly 
that  no  effort  could  separate  them,  was  a 
beautiful  babe.  Perfect  peace  and  rest  were 
on  their  faces,  and  they  had  evidently  died 
in  sleep.  Mother  and  child  were  buried  as 
they  were  found — together. 


CHAPTER  Vin 

THE  LIGHTHOUSE  KEEPER 

Hekoes,  also,  are  the  men  who  build  and  tend 
our  lighthouses,  and  there  are  few  finer 
stories  than  that  which  tells  of  the  erection  of 
Tillamook  Rock  lighthouse,  probably  the 
most  exposed  structure  in  the  world.  Tilla- 
mook is  a  basaltic  rock,  rising  abruptly  from 
the  deep  waters  of  the  Pacific  a  mile  off  the 
Oregon  coast,  and  eighteen  miles  south  of  the 
mouth  of  the  Columbia  River.  Projecting  to 
seaward,  it  receives  the  full  force  of  the  storm- 
iest waves  of  the  Pacific,  which  often  break 
with  appalling  violence  on  its  summit,  ninety 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  boats  being 
able  to  reach  it  only  when  the  sea  is  calm. 

Four    workmen    in    October,   1879,  were 
landed  on  the  rock  with  their  tools,  fuel,  pro- 

198 


THE  LIGHTHOUSE  KEEPER     199 

visions,  a  stove,  and  canvas  for  a  tent.  They 
were  in  a  few  days  joined  by  five  others,  who 
brought  with  them  a  small  derrick.  The  fore- 
man of  the  party  lost  his  life  in  attempting  to 
land,  and  the  lot  of  the  survivors  was  one  of 
great  discomfort  and  constant  danger.  To 
prevent  being  blown  or  washed  away,  they 
tied  the  canvas  to  ring-bolts  driven  into  holes 
drilled  in  the  rocks,  and  then  quarried  out  a 
nook  in  which  they  built  a  shanty,  which  they 
also  bolted  to  the  rocks.  Next  a  flight  of 
steps  was  quarried  up  the  steep  side  of  the 
cliff,  and  the  work  of  cutting  down  and  level- 
ing the  summit  began. 

The  weather  often  compelled  a  suspension 
of  work  for  days  at  a  time,  and  in  January 
came  a  tornado  which  lasted  for  nearly  a 
week.  During  this  storm  the  shanty  of  the 
workmen  was  repeatedly  flooded  with  water 
and  their  supplies  were  swept  into  the  sea. 
They  were  able  at  the  end  of  a  fortnight  to 
make  those  on  the  mainland  acquainted  with 
their  condition,  and  fresh  supplies  were 
passed  to  them  over  a  line  cast  from  the  rocks 


200  THE    SEA   EOVERS 

to  the  deck  of  a  schooner,  which  had  come  as 
near  as  safety  would  permit. 

When  May,  1880,  came,  the  dome  of  the  rock 
had  been  cut  down  to  a  height  of  eighty-eight 
feet  from  the  surface  of  the  sea,  and  a  spot 
leveled  for  the  lighthouse.  A  small  engine 
and  more  derricks  were  now  landed,  and  with 
them  came  three  masons,  who  in  June  laid 
the  corner-stone  of  the  lighthouse.  The 
stones  were  made  ready  for  laying  on  the 
mainland,  and  a  fresh  supply  conveyed  to  the 
rock  whenever  the  weather  would  permit. 
First,  a  square,  one-story  house  for  the  keep- 
ers was  built,  and  above  this  was  raised  a 
tower  forty-eight  feet  high,  raising  the  light 
136  feet  above  the  sea  level.  Sixteen  months 
after  work  was  begun  the  lamp  was  lighted 
for  the  first  time,  and  has  since  prevented 
scores  of  wrecks.  Over  the  beacon  raised 
amid  such  difficulties,  three  keepers  stand  sen- 
tinel, and  their  lot  is  an  exciting  as  well  as  a 
lonely  one.  A  few  winters  ago  a  terrific 
storm  broke  upon  the  rock,  and  the  water 
poured  in  torrents  through  the  holes  cut  in 


THE  LIGHTHOUSE  KEEPER     201 

the  dome  of  the  lighthouse  to  give  ventilation 
to  the  lamps.  Stout  wire  screen  shutters  pro- 
tected the  lantern  and  broke  the  force  of  the 
water  hurled  against  the  glass.  But  for  this 
it  would  have  been  battered  in,  and  the  heavy 
plates  might  have  killed  the  man  attending 
the  lamps. 

Tillamook  is  known  in  the  service  and  to 
mariners  as  a  light  of  the  first  class,  since 
lighthouses  are  roughly  divided  into  three 
classes:  First,  those  on  outlying  headlands 
and  deep-sea  rocks,  the  distinguishing  fea- 
tures of  a  country's  coastline,  and  the  first 
to  give  the  mariner  warning  of  his  nearness 
to  land.  The  second  grade  of  lights  show 
him  his  way  through  the  secondary  shoals  and 
rocks,  and  the  third  grade,  or  harbor  lights, 
take  him  safely  into  port.  There  are  fifty- 
two  first-class  lights  on  the  coasts  of  the 
United  States.  New  Jersey  and  Massachu- 
setts have  each  a  double  light;  and  Florida, 
by  reason  of  the  treacherous  reefs  which  girt 
its  coast,  has  as  many  first-class  lights  as  any 
other  two  States  put  together. 


202  THE   SEA   ROVERS 

A  majority  of  the  lights  of  the  first-class 
are  housed  in  tall  stone  or  brick  towers,  and 
a  number  of  them  stand  upon  very  high 
ground.  The  light  on  Cape  Mendocino  glows 
from  an  eminence  of  423  feet  above  the  level 
of  the  sea,  and  is  visible  for  twenty-eight 
miles.  There  are  ten  other  lights  whose  ele- 
vation averages  from  204  to  360  feet  above 
sea  level,  and  which  are  visible  from  twenty- 
one  to  twenty-six  miles.  The  light  at  St.  Au- 
gustine, Fla.,  is  a  fine  example  of  its  class. 
The  strong  and  massive  tower  of  brick  rises 
150  feet  from  the  ground,  and  the  light  is 
reached  by  winding  stairs.  The  apparatus 
for  the  light  is  twelve  feet  high  and  six  feet 
through,  and  the  lenses  alone  cost  thousands 
of  dollars.  A  powerful  lamp  in  the  centre  of 
the  apparatus  sends  its  rays  in  all  directions, 
the  lenses  being  arranged  at  such  angles  as 
to  gather  the  light  and  to  send  it  out  in  par- 
allel rays  in  the  course  desired.  The  cost 
of  the  St.  Augustine  lighthouse  was  $100,000. 

Each  lighthouse  must  have  peculiarities  of 
its  own,  so  that  both  by  night  and  by  day  the 


THE  LIGHTHOUSE  KEEPER     203 

mariner  can  distinguish  it  from  its  neighbors, 
and  thus  guard  against  the  mistakes  that 
might  otherwise  prove  fatal.  The  first  re- 
sult desired  is  accomplished  by  the  use  of 
fixed,  revolving,  blended,  flash  and  intermit- 
tent lights,  and  as  the  timing  of  the  second 
and  the  two  latter  classes  is  capable  of  great 
variety,  it  will  be  seen  that  the  elasticity  of 
the  system  is  ample  to  meet  all  possible  needs. 
To  secure  the  second  result  desired  the  light- 
houses are  painted  in  different  colors,  and  the 
application  of  the  colors  is  varied  in  each  in- 
stance. Some  retain  their  natural  colors, 
while  others  are  painted  black  and  white,  or 
red  and  white;  here  broad  horizontal  bands 
alternating,  and  there  slender  spiral  ones  set- 
ting off  the  background  of  a  sharply  contrast- 
ing color.  Again,  the  shape  of  the  houses  is 
varied,  some  being  circular  and  others  cone- 
shaped,  some  tall  and  others  short,  some 
square  and  others  octagonal,  while  in  many 
cases  the  shape  and  color  of  the  keeper's 
dwelling  nearby  also  help  to  make  distinction 
easy.      Thus  the  character  of  the  light  guides 


204  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

the  sailor  by  night,  and  by  day  the  form  and 
color  of  the  lighthouse  give  him  welcome 
knowledge  of  his  whereabouts. 

The  first  lighthouses  in  this  country  were 
beacons,  made  by  piling  up  stones,  from  the 
summit  of  which  "firebales  of  pitch  and 
ocum"  were  burned  in  iron  baskets  at  night. 
It  is  a  far  cry  from  that  time  to  this,  and  the 
construction  of  the  lighthouse  of  the  present 
day  is,  as  has  already  been  shown,  a  task  de- 
manding mechanical  skill  and  engineering 
ability  of  the  first  order.  A  lighthouse  on  the 
mainland  has  few  difficulties  involved  in  its 
construction,  but  where  the  foundation  is  an 
isolated  rock,  a  submerged  reef,  or  a  sandy 
shoal,  the  best  resources  of  the  engineer  and 
mechanic  are  called  into  full  play. 

The  lighthouse  most  difficult  to  build  is  that 
on  the  submerged  rock  or  partly  submerged 
rock.  Race  Rock  Light,  in  Long  Island  Sound, 
belongs  to  this  class.  Portions  of  Race  Rock 
are  three  and  others  thirteen  feet  under  wa- 
ter. Diving-bells  were  used  to  level  the  foun- 
dations for  the  lighthouse,  and  the  masonry 


THE  LIGHTHOUSE  KEEPER     205 

and  concrete  under  water  were  laid  in  the 
same  way.  The  United  States  has  two  other 
lighthouses  built  on  submerged  rocks,  Minot's 
Ledge  in  Boston  harbor,  and  Spectacle  Reef, 
on  Lake  Huron.  The  first  lighthouse  on  Minot's 
Ledge  was  built  above  stout  iron  rods  driven 
into  the  rocks.  In  April,  1851,  there  was  a 
severe  gale  which  lasted  five  days.  On  the 
third  night  of  the  storm  the  house  was  blown 
down  and  light  and  keeper  went  out  together. 
Four  years  later  a  second  structure  was  be- 
gun, this  time  with  a  foundation  of  masonry 
and  concrete.  Minot's  is  barely  awash  with 
the  lowest  tide,  and  so  rare  were  the  oppor- 
tunities for  work  that  three  years  were  re- 
quired to  prepare  the  rock  for  the  first  course 
of  stone,  which  was  laid  in  1857.  In  1860  the 
structure  was  completed  and  has  ever  since 
stood  proof  against  wind  and  storm. 

Spectacle  Reef  lighthouse,  near  Mackinac, 
was  bui]t  with  the  aid  of  a  coffer-dam.  A 
large  wooden  cylinder  was  constructed  by 
banding  long  staves  tightly  together  and 
towed  out  to  the  rock,  where  it  was  set  up  on 


206  THE   SEA   EOVEES 

the  surface  and  the  stones  driven  down  into 
the  uneven  places.  Then  the  crevices  were 
filled  with  cement  and  the  water  pumped  out. 
After  this  the  rock  was  leveled  and  the  lime- 
stone courses  rapidly  raised  one  above  an- 
other. Spectacle  Keef  light  stands  eleven 
miles  from  land,  and  its  base  is  seven  feet  un- 
der water. 

Where  there  is  a  shifting  shoal,  whose  un- 
stable character  no  degree  of  mechanical  or 
engineering  skill  can  overcome,  resort  is  had 
to  the  lightship.  The  United  States  has 
twenty-five  of  these  vessels.  Seven  of  them 
are  employed  off  Massachusetts  Bay  to  mark 
the  Vineyard  and  Nantucket  shoals,  and  a  line 
of  equal  number  lies  along  Long  Island  Sound 
stretching  from  Brenton's  Eeef  to  Sandy 
Hook.  Four  more  are  stationed  off  the  New 
Jersey  and  Delaware  coasts,  one  off  Cape 
Charles,  three  off  North  Carolina,  South  Caro- 
lina and  Georgia,  and  two  off  Louisiana  and 
Texas.  The  life  of  a  lightship  crew,  as  will 
be  told  in  another  place,  is  a  laborious  and 
often  a  dangerous  one. 


THE  LIGHTHOUSE  KEEPER     207 

The  United  States  is  divided  into  sixteen 
lighthouse  districts,  each  one  with  its  inspec- 
tor and  engineer.  The  former,  drawn  from 
the  navy,  inspects  the  lights  under  his  juris- 
diction at  least  every  three  months ;  the  latter, 
a  member  of  the  Corps  of  Engineers,  superin- 
tends the  building,  removal  or  renovation  of 
the  towers.  Both  are  responsible  to  the 
Lighthouse  Board,  a  body  appointed  by  the 
President  and  composed  of  veteran  naval  offi- 
cers of  high  rank,  who  are  no  longer  fitted  for 
active  duty  at  sea. 

The  station  of  the  third  lighthouse  district 
is  on  Staten  Island,  between  St.  George  and 
Tompkinsville.  Here  over  a  hundred  men 
are  constantly  employed  and  half  a  million 
dollars  annually  expended.  From  this  sta- 
tion one  hundred  and  eighty-nine  lighthouses 
and  beacon  lights  and  seven  lightships  are 
maintained  and  supplied,  while  thirty-six  day 
or  unlighted  beacons,  thirteen  steam  fog  sig- 
nals, six  electric  light  buoys,  and  five  hundred 
and  seven  other  buoys  are  looked  after  and 


208  THE    SEA   EOVEES 

kept  in  repair  by  the  inspector  and  his 
assistants. 

Fog  often  obscures  the  rays  of  the  most 
powerful  light,  and  it  is  then  that  the  fog 
signal  and  the  whistling  buoy  come  into  play. 
The  most  effective  fog  signal  is  the  American 
siren,  a  steam  machine  worked  under  seventy 
pounds  pressure,  and  from  which  a  series  of 
noises  come  forth  that  can  be  heard  from  two 
to  four  miles.  Certain  intervals  in  the  sounds 
designate  the  nearest  light  and  afford  a  wel- 
come and  often  much-needed  guide  to  the  mar- 
iner enveloped  in  a  cloak  of  fog.  This  sys- 
tem of  fog  signals  extends  along  the  entire 
seaboard,  extra  precautions  being  taken  on 
the  Northern  Atlantic  coast. 

Mineral  oil  is  the  principal  illuminant  used 
in  our  lighthouses.  It  is  selected  with  the 
greatest  care,  and  is  subjected  to  three  sev- 
eral tests  before  being  accepted.  Gas  has 
been  tried  as  a  lighthouse  illuminant,  but  with 
inferior  success,  and  there  are  at  the  present 
time  only  three  lighthouses  in  which  it  is  used. 
Experiments  with  electricity  have  also  been 


THE  LIGHTHOUSE  KEEPER     209 

only  fairly  successful,  its  light  blinding  in- 
stead of  giving  aid  to  the  pilot.  The  light- 
house station  on  Staten  Island  is  a 
busy  place,  and  much  work  is  done  there,  but 
the  wheels  of  industry  are  so  well  oiled  and 
run  so  smoothly,  that  a  deep  peace  seems 
always  to  brood  over  the  establishment.  Day 
after  day  and  year  after  year  the  work,  mov- 
ing in  well-marked  channels,  goes  on  with 
quiet  and  certainty.  Everywhere  the  neat- 
ness and  order  prevail  that  mark  all  depart- 
ments of  the  lighthouse  service. 

Indeed,  in  no  branch  of  the  government 
service  is  stricter  discipline  and  closer  atten- 
tion to  duty  insisted  upon  than  is  demanded 
from  the  brave  and  devoted  men  who  tend 
our  lighthouses.  The  pay  of  these  keepers 
ranges  from  $1,000  to  $100,  the  average,  by 
an  Act  of  Congress  passed  some  years  ago, 
being  $600.  The  Lighthouse  Board,  which 
controls  the  service,  selects  as  keepers  the  best 
men  obtainable,  preference  being  always 
given  to  men  who  have  served  for  lengthy 
periods  in  the  army  and  navy. 


210  THE    SEA  ROVERS 

Members  of  this  class  Know  what  discipline 
means,  and  hard  experience  has  taught  them 
that  orders  are  to  be  obeyed  to  the  letter. 
Many  an  old  veteran,  whose  scars  tell  of  val- 
iant service  in  the  Civil  War  or  on  the  West- 
ern frontier,  and  many  an  old  shipmaster  or 
mate,  whose  weather-beaten  face  bespeaks 
long  years  spent  on  the  quarter-deck,  as  light- 
house keepers  now  do  duty  on  solitary  and 
barren  beacon  rocks,  where  for  months  at  a 
time,  aside  from  their  own  voices  and  those 
of  their  families,  the  roar  and  moan  of  the 
ocean,  as  it  beats  against  the  breakers  below, 
are  the  only  sounds  that  are  heard. 

The  life  of  the  keeper — though  many  who 
follow  it  seem  wholly  contented  with  it,  and 
doubtless  would  not  leave  it  for  any  other 
calling — is  thus  a  lonely  and  arduous  one. 
Two  breaches  of  the  rules  which  govern  the 
keeper's  conduct  bring  as  a  penalty  immediate 
dismissal  from  the  service.  The  absence  of 
a  light  for  a  single  moment  may  bring  dis- 
aster to  life  and  property  on  the  seas,  and 
neither  excuse  nor  previous  good  conduct  can 


THE  LIGHTHOUSE  KEEPER      211 

save  from  instant  dismissal  the  keeper  who 
allows  his  light  to  go  out.  He  may  plead  that 
his  wife  or  child  was  dying,  but  he  is  told 
that  he  must  subordinate  his  light  to  nothing. 
And  he  must  not  only  keep  his  light  burning, 
but  stay  by  it  so  long  as  the  lighthouse  stands. 
Some  years  ago  an  ice  pack  lifted  from  its 
foundations,  overturned  and  carried  away  the 
Sharp  's  Island  lighthouse  in  Chesapeake  Bay. 
The  two  keepers  had  a  staunch  boat  and  could 
have  made  their  way  to  shore.  Instead,  they 
bravely  chose  to  remain  at  their  post  of  duty, 
and  for  sixteen  hours,  without  food  or  fire, 
drifted  with  the  wreck  at  the  mercy  of  the 
ice  cakes.  When  the  wreck  finally  grounded 
the  keepers  carried  ashore  all  the  movable 
portions  of  the  light,  the  oil,  and  everything 
else  they  could  take  with  them. 

At  the  same  time  the  keepers  of  another 
light,  fearing  danger,  left  their  post  and  went 
ashore.  They  pleaded  that  the  ice  had  ren- 
dered the  light  useless  for  the  time  being,  but 
this  excuse  had  no  weight  with  their  supe- 
riors. They  had  proven  recreant  to  their  trust 


212  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

and  were  dismissed  from  the  service,  the 
places  they  had  filled  being  given  to  the  two 
keepers  who  had  refused  to  leave  their  post 
of  duty,  even  when  to  remain  seemed  certain 
death.  Drunkenness,  when  detected,  also 
leads  to  removal  from  the  service.  That  and 
allowing  one  \s  light  to  go  out  are  the  two  un- 
pardonable sins  in  the  eyes  of  the  lighthouse 
inspector. 

Aside  from  his  duties  at  night,  the  keeper 
finds  plenty  of  work  to  do.  Promptly  at  a 
given  hour  in  the  morning  the  lights  must  be 
extinguished;  and  during  the  day  all  put  in 
order  for  the  coming  night.  In  the  lantern 
room  the  lenses  must  be  kept  free  from  speck 
or  tarnish,  and  the  reflectors,  the  brass  rail- 
ings and  the  gun  metal  carefully  burnished 
and  polished  to  the  last  degree  of  brightness. 
The  oil  tanks  must  also  be  filled  and  the  wick 
trimmed.  Carelessness  or  negligence  in  any 
of  these  particulars  is  dangerous,  for  the 
.  visits  of  the  inspectors  are  always  unan- 
nounced, and  may  occur  at  any  moment. 

Most  important  of  all,  the  lamp  must  be 


THE  LIGHTHOUSE  KEEPER     213 

lighted  on  time,  for  a  delay  of  even  a  few 
minutes  will  not  escape  notice.  Each  keeper 
is  required  to  record  the  time  the  lights  ap- 
pear in  the  stations  within  his  range,  and 
tardiness  in  this  particular  is  noted  by 
watchful  eyes,  and  at  once  reported.  At  in- 
accessible stations,  as  a  rule,  from  three  to 
four  keepers  are  employed.  In  stormy  months, 
when  communication  with  the  mainland  is  im- 
possible, one  or  more  of  the  keepers  may  die 
or  be  disabled,  and  experience  has  taught 
that,  to  insure  safety,  three  men  at  least  must 
be  posted  at  every  dangerous  station. 

No  keeper  is  allowed  to  engage  in  any  busi- 
ness which  may  interfere  with  his  presence 
at  the  lighthouse.  However,  there  are  some 
keepers  who  work  at  tailorings  shoemaking, 
and  similar  trades ;  and  there  are  others  who 
are  preachers,  school-teachers  and  justices  of 
the  peace.  The  keeper  whose  lighthouse  is 
located  on  land  is  encouraged  to  keep  a  gar- 
den, and  a  barn  is  provided  for  his  horses  and 
cattle.  Until  a  few  years  ago  many  keepers 
greatly  increased   their  incomes  by  taking 


214  THE   SEA  ROVERS 

boarders  in  the  summer — life  in  a  lighthouse 
has  a  strong  attraction  for  those  fond  of  the 
romantic— but  the  Lighthouse  Board  finally 
prohibited  the  renting  of  quarters  to  outsid- 
ers in  buildings  owned  and  constructed  by  the 
Government,  and  this  pleasant  and  conven- 
ient source  of  revenue  was  cut  off. 

Whenever  keepers  are  located  at  stations 
where  the  cost  of  carriage  exceeds  the  cost  of 
fuel  and  rations,  they  are  furnished  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  Government.  This  applies  to 
the  keeper  of  the  lighthouse  on  a  big  rock  near 
Cape  Ann.  No  sea-going  vessel  can  come 
within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  his  home,  and  it 
is  impossible  for  a  loaded  boat  to  reach  his 
abiding-place  in  safety.  The  coal  he  uses  is 
shipped  in  bags  from  Boston  to  as  near  the 
lighthouse  as  the  vessel  can  approach.  The 
bags  are  then  loaded  into  small  boats  and 
taken  to  the  edge  of  the  shoal  water,  inside 
of  which  it  is  dangerous  to  enter.  From  the 
boats  the  bags  are  carried  ashore  on  the 
backs  of  the  crew,  who  wade  through  the 
shoals,  clamber  up  the  rocks  with  their  bur- 


A   LIGHTHOUSE      KEEPER 


THE  LIGHTHOUSE  KEEPER     215 

(lens  and  empty  the  coal  in  the  lighthouse  bin. 
Coal  is  worth  thirty  dollars  a  ton  at  Cape  Ann 
lighthouse.  The  keeper's  other  bulky  sup- 
plies are  delivered  in  the  same  manner  as  his 
coal. 

At  all  the  lighthouses  built  on  rocks  and 
ledges  the  keepers  have  to  be  supplied  with 
fresh  water  from  the  mainland,  that  collected 
from  rains  in  cisterns  and  tanks  being  gener- 
ally insufficient  for  their  needs.  Each  light- 
house keeper  is  supplied  by  the  Government 
with  a  well-selected  library  of  fifty  volumes. 
There  are  five  hundred  and  fifty  of  these  li- 
braries, and  they  are  continually  kept  mov- 
ing from  station  to  station,  the  inspector, 
when  he  makes  his  quarterly  visit,  bringing 
a  fresh  library,  and  taking  the  old  one  with 
him,  to  his  next  stopping-place. 

Captain  Oliver  Brooks,  now  living  in  hon- 
ored and  well-earned  retirement,  besides  be- 
ing for  thirty  years  keeper  of  the  great  light 
on  Faulkner's  Island,  ^ve  miles  off  the  Con- 
necticut coast  in  Long  Island  Sound,  was  also 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  ever  con- 


216  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

nected  with  the  lighthouse  service.  He  had 
been  a  sea  captain  before  he  became  a  light- 
house keeper  and  was  a  man  of  signal  me- 
chanical skill  and  marked  inventive  genius. 
His  knowledge  of  electricity,  and  of  light  and 
sound  was  thorough  and  exact,  and  the  re- 
sults of  many  of  his  experiments,  adopted  by 
the  Lighthouse  Board,  have  contributed 
greatly  to  the  improvement  of  the  service. 
All  the  apparatus  with  which  he  conducted  his 
experiments  was  constructed  by  him  in  a  lit- 
tle workshop  he  had  fitted  up  in  the  lighthouse 
tower. 

But  his  fondness  for  the  theoretical  never 
caused  him  to  neglect  in  the  slightest  detail 
the  practical  side  of  his  work,  and  he  was,  in- 
deed, a  model  keeper.  Faulkner's  Island 
lies  directly  in  the  path  of  all  vessels  passing 
either  in  or  out  of  the  Sound,  and  its  light 
is  one  of  the  most  important  ones  on  our 
coasts,  but  there  has  not  been  a  night  in  more 
than  a  hundred  years  that  it  has  not  flashed 
out  its  warning  to  sailors.  The  island  was  a 
barren  and  desolate  spot  when  Captain  Brooks 


THE  LIGHTHOUSE  KEEPER     217 

settled  there,  but  he  and  his  family  turned  it 
into  a  paradise.  All  of  his  large  family  of 
boys  and  girls  were  born  there,  and  there 
grew  up  to  sturdy  manhood  and  splendid 
womanhood.  One  daughter  was  an  author- 
ity on  ornithology;  another,  a  gifted  water- 
color  artist,  and  every  one  of  the  children  was 
a  skilled  musician,  their  family  concerts,  in 
which  not  less  than  five  different  instruments 
were  brought  into  play,  being  treats  to  hear. 
All  of  the  children  had  noble  records  as  life- 
savers,  and  many  were  the  men,  women  and 
children  they  saved  from  death  in  the 
treacherous  waters  surrounding  their  island 
home.  It  was  not  until  his  youngest  child 
had  left  the  island  that  the  captain  gave  up 
his  place  as  keeper  to  spend  his  last  days  on 
shore. 

Even  better  known  than  Captain  Brooks  is 
the  keeper  of  Lime  Rock  light  in  Newport 
harbor.  Should  you  chance  to  be  in  Newport 
on  some  pleasant  summer  afternoon,  walk  out 
on  the  long  wharf  that  runs  from  the  main- 
land into  the  west  side  of  the  harbor,  and 


218  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

when  you  have  reached  its  end,  wave  your 
handkerchief  toward  the  lighthouse  opposite. 
Soon  a  woman  will  appear  in  the  door  of  the 
tall  gray  tower,  and  running  down  to  the 
boat  moored  to  the  stone  wall,  step  into  it, 
take  the  oars,  and  with  graceful  yet  powerful 
strokes,  pull  rapidly  toward  the  wharf.  As 
she  approaches  her  erect  back  and  evident 
strength  give  the  impression  of  youth,  but  as 
she  turns  the  boat  about  to  receive  you  for 
a  visit  to  the  lighthouse  you  discover  to  your 
surprise  that  she  is  a  woman  of  middle  age. 

Your  hostess  is  Ida  Lewis,  keeper  of  Lime 
Rock  light  and  famous  as  the  American  Grace 
Darling,  a  modest  and  kindly  hearted  hero- 
ine, whose  skill  and  daring  have  saved  nearly 
as  many  lives  as  there  are  years  in  her  own. 
In  fact,  it  was  due  in  part  to  her  record  as  a 
life-saver,  that  she  was  given  the  place  she 
now  fills.  Besides  attending  to  her  duties  as 
keeper,  there  are  other  cares  that  keep  her 
busy;  she  is  a  careful  housewife,  keeps 
abreast  of  current  literature;  and  is  a  de- 
voted churchwoman,  spending  her  Sundays  on 


THE  LIGHTHOUSE  KEEPER     219 

shore  whenever  possible.  To  her  credit,  no 
light  in  her  district  is  as  regularly  or  per- 
fectly attended  to,  nor  does  any  other  gain 
from  the  inspector  so  high  a  report  as  Lime 
Rock  light. 

There  are  several  other  women  light-keep- 
ers, but  none  of  them  has  ever  had  to  face 
an  experience  as  trying  as  that  which  a  few 
years  ago  befell  the  wife  of  Angus  Campbell, 
keeper  of  the  light  on  Great  Bird  Rock,  a 
lonely  islet  in  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence,  and 
the  farthest  beacon  to  the  harbors  of  Nova 
Scotia.  "When  the  late  fall  comes  and  the 
tardy  fishermen  hasten  away  to  the  mainland, 
the  gulf  turns  to  ice  and  hems  the  rock  in 
with  a  clutch  that  only  the  returning  summer 
can  loosen.  There,  in  the  autumn  of  1896, 
Angus  Campbell  took  his  newly  wedded  wife 
to  share  his  loneliness.  During  the  winter 
James  Duncan  and  George  Bryson,  two  of 
Campbell's  friends,  journeyed  to  Great  Bird 
Rock  to  remain  until  spring.  They  were  pro- 
fessional seal  hunters,  and  a  great  many  seals 


220  THE    SEA   EOVERS 

play  around  on  the  ice  and  rocks  at  the  foot 
of  the  big  cliff. 

The  men  landed  on  the  rock  early  in  Feb- 
ruary. At  that  time  there  was  no  open  water 
within  five  or  six  miles  of  the  lighthouse  in 
any  direction.  The  men  were  landed  on  the 
ice  and  made  their  way  up  to  where  Campbell 
was  waiting  for  them.  On  February  27, 
Campbell  and  his  visitors  left  the  rock  to  go 
in  pursuit  of  the  seals  they  had  noticed  on  the 
ice  the  day  before.  His  wife  saw  them  start 
across  the  ice  and  then  returned  to  her  house- 
hold duties.  They  had  not  been  gone  more 
than  four  hours,  when  the  wind,  which  had 
been  growing  colder  and  blowing  steadily 
from  the  eastward,  shifted  to  the  southwest. 
The  southwest  wind  is  the  agency  that  dashes 
the  ice  fields  against  the  cliff  and  breaks  them 
up.  She  thought  that  the  men,  being  so  much 
lower,  might  not  have  noticed  the  wind,  and 
she  hoisted  the  danger  signal.  They  must 
have  seen  it,  for  she  soon  caught  sight  of  them 
hurrying  over  the  ice  toward  the  rock. 

They  were  within  gunshot  of  the  light- 


THE  LIGHTHOUSE  KEEPER     221 

house,  when  the  ice  cracked  with  a  sound  like 
thunder,  and  a  long,  blue  line  appeared,  run- 
ning east  and  west,  parallel  with  the  light- 
house rock  and  with  North  Bird  Rock;  about 
five  miles  to  the  westward.  The  big  crack 
was  followed  by  a  general  splitting  up  of  the 
ice  floe.  She  saw  the  men  standing  just  the 
other  side  of  the  open  water.  She  saw  her 
husband  wave  his  hands  at  her  and  she  waved 
back.  Then  the  darkness  came,  like  a  great 
blanket  dropped  from  the  wintry  skies,  and 
men  and  ice  were  blotted  from  her  vision.  But 
even  in  her  sore  distress  she  did  not  forget 
the  duty  incumbent  on  the  lighthouse  keeper. 
She  clambered  up  into  the  lantern  and  lighted 
the  great  oil  lamp,  saw  that  it  was  filled,  and 
attended  to  the  other  duties  she  had  seen  her 
husband  perform. 

Morning,  when  it  came,  gave  no  glimpse  of 
her  husband  and  his  companions,  nor  did  the 
third  or  the  fourth  day  bring  them  back  to 
her.  After  that  the  days  grew  into  weeks, 
and  the  worse  than  widowed  woman  found 
herself  confined  to  lonely  and  racking  impris- 


222  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

onment  on  the  ice-locked  rock.  But  not  for  a 
single  night  did  she  fail  to  fill  and  light  the 
lamp  that  had  been  her  hapless  husband's 
charge.  When  the  Government  steamer 
touched  at  Great  Bird  Rock,  on  May  5,  1897, 
the  captain  looked  long  and  earnestly  at  the 
lighthouse  perched  far  above  him,  and  won- 
dered why  there  was  not  the  customary  greet- 
ing. He  saw  no  sign  of  life.  There  was  the 
derrick  rope  swinging  in  the  wind,  but  no 
moving  figures  at  the  top  of  the  cliff,  as  there 
were  wont  to  be. 

Closely  scanning  the  rock,  he  saw  at  last  a 
white,  gaunt  face  at  the  window.  In  a  little 
while  a  thin,  tottering  figure  crept  to  the  brow 
of  the  ledge,  but  it  was  some  minutes  before 
the  tender's  captain  could  recognize  in  that 
wasted  being  the  comely  woman  whom  he  had 
known  as  Angus  Campbell 's  wife. 

" Where  is  your  husband f"  he  shouted. 

" Angus  is  dead,"  came  the  answer,  in  a 
faint,  palsied  voice,  "and  so  are  Jim  Dun- 
can and  George  Bryson." 

An  instant  later  the  captain  had  swung 


THE  LIGHTHOUSE  KEEPER     223 

himself  into  the  derrick  ropes  and  was  mak- 
ing his  way  up  the  rocks.  When  he  reached 
the  woman  she  burst  into  tears  and  fell  at  his 
feet.      Calmed  at  last,  she  told  her  story. 

"How  did  you  stand  it!"  asked  the  captain 
when  she  had  finished. 

"God  knows,"  was  the  reply.  "I  knew  I 
had  to  keep  that  light  burning,  and  that  I 
think  kept  me  alive.  That  was  all  I  had  to 
do,  except  watch  the  sea  through  my  hus- 
band's glass.  I  got  up  night  after  night,  and 
I  do  not  think  I  ever  slept  two  hours  at  a 
time.  There  were  plenty  of  provisions,  but 
I  could  not  eat  more  than  one  meal  a  day,  and 
sometimes  I  did  not  eat  that.  I  had  some 
hope  on  the  morning  after  the  boys  were  car- 
ried out  on  the  ice  floe,  that  they  might  be  in 
sight  and  might  be  saved  some  way.  But  that 
morning  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  but 
water  and  ice.  Then  hope  was  gone.  I 
knew  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  wait  for 
the  spring.  And  I  have  done  it.  Every  day 
I  have  swept  the  horizon  with  the  aid  of  the 
glasses.      It  was  merely  a  formality,  after  a 


224  THE    SEA   KOVERS 

while,  but  I  kept  on  doing  it.  I  do  not  know 
why.  At  last  life  got. to  be  like  being  buried 
alive.  I  had  no  interest  in  living.  I  had  no 
appetite,  no  thought  of  sleep.  In  all  the  time 
I  do  not  suppose  I  have  slept  two  hours  in 
succession,  nor  at  any  time  eaten  more  than 
one  scanty  meal  a  day.  I  was  going  crazy, 
and  should  have  killed  myself  or  died  of  star- 
vation in  another  week." 

A  few  days  later  Mrs.  Campbell  was  re- 
moved from  the  rock  to  her  former  home  in 
Prince  Edward  Island. 

Many  of  the  most  picturesque  lighthouses 
in  the  United  States  establishment  are  on  the 
rocks  and  islands  off  the  coast  of  Maine. 
Notable  for  its  beauty  is  the  one  on  Matinicus 
Rock.  The  first  lighthouse  thereon,  erected 
in  1827,  was  a  cobblestone  dwelling  with  a 
wooden  tower  at  each  end.  Twenty  years  later 
this  was  replaced  by  a  granite  dwelling  with 
semicircular  towers,  which  has  since* devel- 
oped into  an  establishment  requiring  the 
services  of  a  keeper  and  three  assistants. 
Matinicus  Rock  rises  fifty  feet  above  the  sea, 


THE  LIGHTHOUSE  KEEPER     225 

and  presents  what  seems  a  precipitous  front 
to  the  ocean,  but  there  is  no  more  rugged,  dan- 
gerous coast  along  the  seaboard  of  Maine 
than  here,  and  when  a  gale  rages  the  waves 
pound  the  rock  as  if  bent  upon  washing  it 
away,  the  thunder  of  the  green-gray  wall 
that  beats  against  it,  sounding,  at  such  times, 
like  the  cannonade  of  a  hundred  heavy  guns. 
Life  on  Matinicus  for  years  past  has  been  a 
never  ending  struggle  between  man  and  the 
elements,  and  this  lends  peculiar  interest  to 
the  history  of  the  light  and  its  watchers, bound 
up  with  which  is  a  love  story  at  once  tender, 
wholesome,  and  true.  Captain  Burgess, 
keeper  of  the  rock  from  1853  to  1861,  had  a 
daughter  Abby,  a  maiden  as  comely  as  she 
was  brave,  whom  he  often  left  in  charge  of 
the  lights  while  he  crossed  to  Matinicus  Is- 
land. On  one  occasion  rough  weather  for 
three  weeks  barred  his  return  to  the  rock,  and 
during  all  that  time,  Abby,  then  a  girl  of  sev- 
enteen, not  only  tended  the  lights,  but  cared 
for  her  invalid  mother  and  her  younger  bro- 
thers and  sisters. 


226  THE    SEA   EOVEES 

In  1861  Captain  Grant  succeeded  Captain 
Burgess  on  Matinicus,  taking  his  son  with 
him  as  assistant.  The  old  keeper  left  Abby 
on  the  rock  to  instruct  the  newcomers  in  their 
duties,  and  she  performed  the  task  so  well 
that  young  Grant  fell  in  love  with  her,  and 
asked  her  to  become  his  wife.  Soon  after 
their  marriage  she  was  appointed  an  assistant 
keeper.  A  few  years  later  the  husband  was 
made  keeper  and  the  wife  assistant  keeper  of 
White  Head,  another  light  on  the  Maine  coast. 
There  they  remained  until  the  spring  of  1890, 
when  they  removed  to  Middleborough,  Mass., 
intending  to  pass  the  balance  of  their  days 
beyond  sight  and  hearing  of  the  rocks  and  the 
waves.  But  the  hunger  which  the  sea  breeds 
in  its  adopted  children  was  still  strong  within 
them,  and  the  fall  of  1892  found  them  again 
on  the  coast  of  Maine,  this  time  at  Portland, 
where  the  husband  again  entered  the  light- 
house establishment,  working  in  the  engi- 
neers '  department  of  the  first  lighthouse  dis- 
trict. With  them  until  his  death  lived  Cap- 
tain Grant,  who  in  the  closing  months  of  1890, 


THE  LIGHTHOUSE  KEEPER     227 

being  then  aged  eighty-five,  retired  from  the 
position  of  keeper  of  Matinicus  light,  which 
he  had  held  for  nearly  thirty  years. 

Not  less  lonely,  but  far  more  perilous  than 
the  life  of  the  keepers  of  a  light  like  that  on 
Matinicus  is  the  lot  of  the  crew  of  the  South 
Shoal  lightship,  whose  position  twenty-six 
miles  off  Sankaty  Head,  Nantucket  Island, 
makes  it  the  most  exposed  light-station  in  the 
world.  Anchored  so  far  out  at  sea,  it  is  only 
during  the  months  of  summer  and  autumn 
that  the  lighthouse  tender  ventures  to  visit  it, 
and  its  crew  from  December  to  May  of  each 
year  are  wholly  cut  off  from  communication 
with  the  land.  It  is  this,  however,  that  makes 
the  South  Shoal  lightship  a  veritable  protec- 
ing  angel  of  the  deep,  for  it  stands  guard  not 
only  over  the  treacherous  New  South  Shoal, 
near  which  it  is  anchored,  but  over  twenty- 
six  miles  of  rips  and  reefs  between  it  and 
the  Nantucket  shore — a  wide-reaching  ocean 
graveyard,  where  bleach  the  bones  of  more 
than  a  half  thousand  wrecked  and  forgotten 
vessels. 


228  THE    SEA   KOVERS 

The  lightship  is  a  stanchly  built  two-hulled 
schooner  of  275  tons  burden,  103  feet  long 
over  all,  equipped  with  fore-and-aft  lantern 
masts  71  feet  high,  and  with  two  masts  for 
sails,  each  42  feet  high.  The  lanterns  are  oc- 
tagons of  glass  in  copper  frames,  so  arranged 
that  they  can  be  lowered  into  houses  built 
around  the  masts.  In  the  forward  part  of  the 
ship  is  a  huge  fog  bell,  swung  ten  feet  above 
the  deck,  which,  when  foggy  weather  prevails, 
as  it  frequently  does  for  weeks  at  a  time,  is 
kept  tolling  day  and  night.  A  two-inch  chain 
fastened  to  a  "mushroom"  anchor  weighing 
upward  of  three  tons  holds  the  vessel  in  eight- 
een fathoms  of  water,  but  this,  so  fiercely  do 
the  waves  beat  against  it  in  winter,  has  not 
prevented  her  from  going  adrift  many  times. 
She  was  two  weeks  at  sea  on  one  of  these  oc- 
casions, and  on  another  she  came  to  anchor 
in  New  York  Harbor.  Life  on  the  South 
Shoal  lightship  is  at  all  times  a  hard  and  try- 
ing one,  and,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  crew 
are  instructed  not  to  expose  themselves  to 
danger  outside  their   special  line  of  duty. 


THE  LIGHTHOUSE  KEEPER     229 

This,  however,  does  not  deter  them  from  fre- 
quently risking  their  lives  in  rescuing  others, 
and  when,  several  years  ago,  the  City  of  New- 
castle went  ashore  on  one  of  the  shoals  near 
the  lightship,  all  hands,  twenty-seven  in  num- 
ber, were  saved  by  the  South  Shoal  crew  and 
kept  aboard  of  her  over  two  weeks,  until  the 
story  of  the  wreck  was  signalled  to  a  passing 
vessel. 

Nor  are  the  South  Shoal  crew  alone  among 
lighthouse  keepers  in  displays  of  heroism  out- 
side the  duties  required  of  them.  Isaac  H. 
Grant  holds  a  silver  medal  given  him  by  the 
Government  for  rescuing  two  men  from 
drowning  while  he  was  keeper  at  White  Head ; 
and  Keeper  Marcus  Hanna,  of  the  Cape  Eliz- 
abeth station,  Maine,  received  a  gold  medal 
for  the  daring  rescue  of  two  sailors  from  a 
wreck  during  a  severe  storm,  while  Frederick 
Hatch,  keeper  of  the  Breakwater  station  at 
Cleveland  was  awarded  the  gold  bar.  The 
last  mentioned  badge  of  honor  is  granted  only 
to  one  who  has  twice  distinguished  himself  by 
a  special  act  of  bravery.    It  was  given  Hatch 


230  THE    SEA   EOVERS 

in  the  winter  of  1898.  A  wreck  occurred  at 
night,  just  outside  the  breakwater.  The  eight 
people  aboard  made  their  way  to  the  break- 
water pier,  but  the  heavy  seas  swept  several 
of  them  back,  and  one  lost  his  life.  Pulling 
to  the  pier  in  a  small  boat,  Keeper  Hatch  took 
off  the  captain's  wife;  but  she  was  hardly  in 
the  boat  before  it  was  swamped  and  capsized. 
The  woman  was  utterly  exhausted  and  almost 
a  dead  weight;  but  though  nearly  overcome 
himself,  Hatch,  at  the  risk  of  his  life,  main- 
tained his  hold  upon  her  until  he  could  reach 
a  line  thrown  from  the  light-station,  with 
which  he  and  his  helpless  burden  were  drawn 
to  the  lighthouse  steps.  Before  that,  and 
while  a  member  of  the  life-saving  crew  at 
Cleveland,  Hatch  had  helped  to  rescue  twenty- 
nine  persons  from  two  vessels  on  two  suc- 
cessive days  during  a  terrific  gale. 


CHAPTER  IX 

LIFE-SAVING  ALONG  SHOKE 

With  each  recurring  autumn  at  nearly  300 
points  on  our  8,000  miles  of  seacoast,  careful 
preparations  begin  for  the  winter  campaign 
of  the  life-saving  service.  Conducted  in  the 
face  of  constant  peril  and  hardship,  this  an- 
nual battle  with  disaster,  storm  and  death  is 
a  peaceful,  yet  always  glorious  one.  During 
the  year  1905  alone  it  resulted  in  the  saving 
of  more  than  4,000  lives  and  the  rescue  of 
nearly  $8,000,000  worth  of  property,  imper- 
illed by  wreck  and  storm,  all  of  which  would 
otherwise  have  been  lost.  The  United  States 
Life-saving  Service  is  now  the  most  complete 
and  effective  organization  of  its  kind  in  the 
world,  furnishing  a  model  and  pattern  for 
those  of  other  countries.      The  story  of  its 

231 


232  THE    SEA   ROVEBS 

rapid  development  during  the  last  thirty-five 
years  is  also  the  inspiring  record  of  the  life 
work  of  one  of  our  most  sagacious  and  de- 
voted public  servants,  Sumner  I.  Kimball,  a 
modest,  blue-eyed,  kindly-faced  man  of  mid- 
dle age,  whose  untiring  labors  in  this  field 
long  since  gave  him  a  foremost  place  among 
the  great  benefactors  of  his  time. 

When  in  1871,  Mr.  Kimball  was  made  Chief 
of  the  Eevenue  Marine  Bureau  of  the  Treas- 
ury Department,  the  live-saving  service  had 
slender  existence,  save  on  paper.  He  found 
the  station-houses  sadly  neglected  and  dilap- 
idated, the  apparatus  rusty  or  broken,  and 
many  of  the  salaried  keepers  disabled  by  age 
or  incompetent  and  neglectful  of  their  duties. 
The  outlook  would  have  discouraged  a  man 
less  resolute  and  determined  than  the  new 
chief,  but  he  had  conceived  the  splendid  idea 
of  guarding  the  entire  coast  of  the  nation  with 
a  chain  of  fortresses  garrisoned  by  disci- 
plined conquerors  of  the  sea,  and  he  set  about 
the  accomplishment  of  his  self-imposed  task 
with  patience,  sagacity  and  skill. 


LIFE-SAVING  ALONG  SHORE     233 

He  reorganized  the  service  and  prepared  a 
code  of  regulations  for  its  control,  in  which 
the  duties  of  every  member  were  carefully  de- 
fined. Politics,  the  bane  of  the  service  in 
former  years,  was  rigidly  eliminated.  Lazy, 
careless  and  incompetent  employees  were 
promptly  dismissed,  and  their  places  filled 
with  capable  and  faithful  surfmen.  The  sta- 
tion-houses were  repaired  and  increased,  and 
equipped  with  the  best  life-saving  devices  hu- 
man skill  and  ingenuity  had  thus  far  brought 
forth.  Last  and  most  important  of  all,  a 
thorough  and  effective  system  of  inspection 
and  patrol  was  inaugurated,  and  so  successful 
did  it  prove  that  during  the  first  year's  oper- 
ation of  the  new  system  every  person  imper- 
illed by  shipwreck  was  saved.  The  service 
has  been  wisely  extended  from  year  to  year, 
until  now  it  has  270  stations,  three-fourths  of 
which  are  along  the  Atlantic  coast,  while  oth- 
ers are  on  the  lakes ;  a  board  of  life-saving  ap- 
pliances; telephone  lines  for  prompt  opera- 
tions and  a  splendid  corps  of  assistant 
superintendents,  experts,  inspectors,  station- 


234  THE   SEA  BOVEBS 

keepers  and  mariners.  The  yearly  cost  of  the 
service  at  the  present  time  is  slightly  less 
than  $1,800,000,  a  sum  ridiculously  small 
when  the  saving  of  life  and  property  is  taken 
into  consideration. 

Life  at  a  life-saving  station  is  never  an 
idle  one.  The  routine  followed  at  the  Avalon, 
New  Jersey  station,  as  I  have  observed  it,  in 
essential  details,  is  the  same  as  that  prac- 
ticed at  all  of  the  stations  of  the  service. 
Four  days  of  every  week  are  devoted  to  drill. 
On  Tuesdays  the  keeper  orders  out  the  surf- 
boat  and  drills  the  crew  in  riding  breakers 
and  landing  through  heavy  surf.  On  Wednes- 
day he  gives  the  men  practical  instruction  in 
the  working  of  the  international  signal  code. 
On  Thursday  the  Lyle  gun  is  ordered  out,  and 
one  of  the  crew,  taking  up  a  position  some 
distance  down  the  shore  near  a  post  stuck  in 
the  sand,  personates  a  seaman  on  a  stranded 
vessel.  The  other  members  of  the  crew  plant 
the  gun  and  fire  a  line  which  the  watcher  pulls 
in  and  rigs  to  the  post.  Then  the  men  at  the 
other  end  of  the  line  dispatch  the  breeches- 


LIFE-SAVING  ALONG  SHORE     235 

buoy  and  gallantly  effect  the  rescue  of  their 
comrade.  On  Friday  the  recovery  drill  is 
carefully  gone  through.  One  of  the  crew  as- 
sumes the  role  of  a  half-drowned  sailor,  and 
his  comrades  resuscitate  him  by  rolling  him 
on  the  sand  and  producing  artificial  breath- 
ing, according  to  the  rules  laid  down  for  the 
purpose.  Saturday  is  general  cleaning  day. 
The  discipline  of  the  crew  is  never  relaxed 
and  none  of  its  members  can  go  out  of  sight 
of  the  station  save  by  special  permission  or 
when  off  duty. 

The  night  hours  at  a  life-saving  station  af- 
ford a  much  more  thrilling  story  than  the 
one  I  have  just  been  relating.  Each  crew  is 
divided  into  three  night  watches.  The  first 
watch  goes  on  duty  at  sundown  and  patrols 
the  beach  until  eight  o'clock,  at  which  hour 
the  second  watch  relieves  it  and  patrols  until 
midnight,  when  the  third  watch  sallies  out  and 
does  duty  until  four  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
Then  the  first  watch  again  goes  on  patrol  and 
keeps  watch  until  sunrise.  During  the  day 
a  surfman  is  constantly  on  the  lookout  in  the 


236  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

watch-tower  of  the  station.  If  the  weather 
be  clear,  this  precaution  suffices,  but  if  it  is 
cloudy  and  storms  threaten,  the  beach  patrols 
are  continued  through  the  day.  Each  watch 
consists  of  two  men,  who,  upon  leaving  the 
station,  separate  and  follow  their  beats  to  the 
right  and  left  until  they  meet  the  patrolmen 
from  the  neighboring  stations  on  either  side, 
with  whom  they  exchange  checks — this  to  show 
the  keeper  they  have  covered  their  respective 
beats.  On  the  Atlantic  seaboard,  stations 
are  now  within  an  average  distance  of  five 
miles  of  each  other,  but  often  the  beats  of  the 
surfmen  are  six  and  seven  miles  long.  It  is  a 
part  of  the  surf  man's  duties  to  keep  a  con- 
stant watch  of  the  sea  and  to  note  the  vessels 
by  the  lights  displayed,  and,  if  they  approach 
too  close  to  the  shore  or  outlying  sandbars, 
give  them  timely  warning.  For  this  purpose 
he  always  carries  a  Coston  signal,  which, 
when  exploded  by  percussion,  emits  a  red 
flame  that  flashes  far  out  over  the  water  and 
warns  the  unwary  ship  of  its  peril.  Last 
year  more  than  two  hundred  vessels,  warned 


LIFE-SAVING  ALONG  SHORE     237 

in  this  way,  at  once  changed  conrse  and  ran 
ont  of  danger.  If  the  snrfman  observes  a 
vessel  that  is  stationary,  he  must  determine 
whether  she  is  at  anchor  or  in  distress,  and  if 
the  latter  proves  to  be  the  case,  he  displays 
his  Coston  signal,  to  assure  the  shipwrecked 
that  aid  is  close  at  hand,  and  then  hastens  to 
the  station  to  give  the  alarm  to  the  keeper. 

The  work  of  the  patrolmen  involves  fre- 
quent danger  and  almost  constant  hardship. 
Imagine,  if  you  can,  and  that  is  impossible, 
the  lot  of  a  surfman  on  the  Jersey  coast  dur- 
ing one  of  the  great  storms  sure  to  occur  once 
or  twice  in  every  winter.  A  fearful  night 
has  followed  a  stormy  and  lowering  day. 
Inky  darkness  shrouds  sea  and  land,  and 
the  wind,  blowing  at  the  rate  of  fifty  miles 
an  hour,  pipes  and  roars  defiance  to  the  pa- 
trolmen as  they  struggle  along  their  lonely 
beats.  The  driving  snow  freezes  on  their 
cheeks  and  chins ;  wet  sand  is  flung  into  their 
faces  and  cuts  with  the  keenness  of  a  razor, 
while  great  masses  of  icy  foam  beat  fiercely 
on  the  head  and  face  and  body  at  every  dozen 


238  THE    SEA   BOVERS 

steps.  Huge  waves  break  at  the  foot  of  the 
sand  dunes  along  which  they  painfully  labor, 
and  drench  them  again  and  again,  often  fell- 
ing them  to  the  ground.  Every  twenty  or 
thirty  yards  they  pause,  and,  baring  their 
faces  to  the  pelting  snow  and  foam,  search  the 
ocean  for  lights.  In  this  way  hours  pass 
before  the  prescribed  beat  is  traversed,  and 
the  surfmen,  wet,  half -frozen,  bruised  and  ex- 
hausted, seek  for  a  brief  season  the  warmth 
and  shelter  of  the  station-house.  Sometimes 
weakness  overcomes  them  and  they  are  un- 
able to  reach  this  refuge. 

When  the  patrolman  descries  a  vessel 
among  the  breakers,  he  displays  his  Coston 
signal,  to  give  assurance  that  aid  is  at  hand, 
and  then  hurries  to  the  station  and  arouses 
his  comrades.  From  the  report  of  the  patrol- 
man the  keeper  makes  quick  decision  as  to  the 
best  methods  to  be  employed  in  effecting  a 
rescue.  If  the  surfboat  is  to  be  used,  the 
doors  of  the  boat-room  are  instantly  thrown 
open  and  the  boat-carriage  drawn  out  and 
hauled  by  the  crew  to  a  point  opposite  the 


LIFE-SAVING  ALONG  SHORE     239 

wreck.  Then  the  boat  is  launched  and  the 
surfmen  depart  upon  their  errand  of  mercy. 
The  surfboat  is  usually  of  cedar,  with  white 
oak  frame,  without  keel,  and  provided  with 
air  cases,  which  render  it  insubmergible.  Com- 
paratively light,  it  can  be  hauled  long  dis- 
tances, and  is  the  only  boat  that  has  been 
found  suitable  for  launching  from  flat  beaches 
through  the  shoaling  waters  of  the  Atlantic 
and  Gulf  coasts.  Handled  by  expert  oars- 
men, its  action  is  often  marvelous,  and,  al- 
though easily  capsized,  there  are  few  recorded 
instances  of  its  having  been  upset  with  fatal 
results  while  passing  through  the  surf.  Often 
repeated  attempts  have  to  be  made  before  a 
wreck  can  be  reached,  and  even  then  the  great- 
est care  must  be  exercised  to  avoid  collision 
with  the  plunging  hull  or  injury  from  floating 
wreckage  and  falling  spars.  When  the  be- 
numbed and  exhausted  crew  and  passengers, 
who  have  usually  sought  refuge  in  the  rigging 
from  the  overwhelming  seas,  have  been  taken 
off,  the  difficult  return  to  shore  yet  remains. 
Sometimes  the  boat  is  run  in  behind  a  roller, 


240  THE    SEA   EOVEES 

and  by  quick  and  clever  work  kept  out  of  the 
way  of  the  following  one,  and  the  shore  is 
gained  in  safety.  At  other  times  the  boat 
is  backed  in,  the  oars  being  used  now  and 
then  to  keep  it  upon  its  course,  and  again, 
when  the  sea  is  unusually  high,  a  drag  is  em- 
ployed to  check  the  force  of  the  incoming 
breakers  and  prevent  the  boat  from  being 
capsized.  In  the  manner  described,  boat  and 
crew  make  repeated  trips  through  the  break- 
ers until  all  have  been  taken  off  the  stranded 
vessel,  and  the  work  of  rescue  is  at  last 
completed. 

When  the  condition  of  the  sea  prevents  the 
use  of  the  surfboat  the  mortar  cart,  equipped 
with  a  small  bronze,  smooth-bore  gun,  named 
for  the  inventor,  Captain  Lyle,  of  the  army, 
is  ordered  out.  Its  destination  reached,  the 
gun  is  placed  in  position  and  loaded  by  mem- 
bers of  the  crew  trained  to  the  work,  while 
others  adjust  the  shot-line  box,  arrange  the 
hauling  lines  and  hawser,  connect  the 
breeches-buoy,  prepare  the  tackles  for  haul- 
ing, and  with  pick  and  spade  dig  a  trench  for 


LIFE-SAVING  ALONG  SHOEE     241 

the  sand-anchor.  With  these  preparations 
completed,  comes  the  firing  of  the  gun.  The 
shot  speeds  over  the  wreck  and  into  the  sea 
beyond,  while  the  crew  of  the  imperilled  ves- 
sel seize  and  make  fast  the  line  attached.  The 
surfmen  next  attach  to  the  short-line  the  whip 
(an  endless  line),  the  tail-block  and  tally- 
board,  and  these  are  in  turn  hauled  in  by  the 
sailors.  And  then  by  means  of  the  whip,  the 
surfmen  dispatch  the  hawser  and  a  second 
tallyboard,  which  directs  how  and  where  the 
end  of  the  hawser  shall  be  fastened  to  the 
wreck.  When  the  tackle  connecting  the  sand 
anchor  and  the  shore  end  of  the  hawser  is 
straight  and  taut,  it  is  lifted  several  feet  in 
the  air  and  further  tightened  by  the  erection 
of  a  wooden  crotch,  which  does  duty  as  a  tem- 
porary pier,  while  the  wreck  answers  for  an- 
other. Finally  the  breeches-buoy  is  drawn 
back  and  forth  on  the  hawser,  and  the  ship- 
wrecked brought  safely  to  shore.  On  this 
occasion  there  have  been  no  delays,  but  at 
other  times  there  are  numerous  obstacles  to 
be  overcome.      The  ropes  may  snarl  or  tangle 


242  THE    SEA  ROVERS 

or  be  snapped  asunder  by  the  rolling  of  the 
vessel,  and  again,  the  imperilled  crew  may 
perform  their  share  of  the  work  in  a  bungling 
manner,  or  unexpected  accidents  befall,  which 
tax  to  the  utmost  the  patience,  resources  and 
courage  of  the  surfmen.  In  many  cases  peo- 
ple held  suspended  in  the  breakers  or  en- 
snarled  in  the  floating  cordage  and  debris  of 
the  vessel,  have  only  been  rescued  by  the  most 
daring  exploits  of  the  surfmen,  who,  at  the 
greatest  risk  of  life  and  limb,  have  worked 
their  way  through  the  surf,  released  the  help- 
less victims  of  the  wreck,  and  brought  them 
to  shore. 

The  breeches-buoy,  to  which  reference  has 
been  made,  is  a  circular  life-preserver  of  cork, 
to  which  short  canvas  breeches  are  attached, 
and  will  hold  two  persons.  But  when  a  large 
number  of  people  are  to  be  rescued,  the  life- 
car,  invented  by  Joseph  Francis  and  con- 
nected with  the  hawser  by  a  simple  device  to 
prevent  it  from  drifting,  is  used.  This  is  a 
water-tight,  covered  boat  of  galvanized  sheet 
iron  and  will  carry  five  or  six  adults  at  a 


A   LIFE-SAVER  ON    PATROL 


LIFE-SAVING  ALONG  SHORE     243 

time.  At  its  first  trial  more  than  two  hun- 
dred persons  were  rescued  from  the  wreck  of 
the  Ayrshire  on  the  New  Jersey  coast,  when 
no  other  means  could  have  availed.  Silks, 
jewels  and  other  valuables  have  often  been 
saved  by  its  use  and  from  one  vessel  the  car 
took  ashore  a  large  sum  of  gold  bullion  be- 
longing to  the  United  States,  together  with 
the  mails.  On  the  lake  and  Pacific  coasts, 
where  the  shores  are  steep  and  the  water 
deep,  the  self-righting  and  self-bailing  life- 
boat is  in  general  use.  This,  the  best  life- 
boat yet  devised,  is  the  result  of  more  than 
a  century  of  study  and  experiment,  following 
the  first  model  designed  in  1780  by  an  Eng- 
lish coachman,  Lionel  Lukin.  It  possesses 
great  stability,  is  rarely  upset,  and  when  this 
happens  instantly  rights  itself,  while  when 
full  of  water  it  empties  itself  in  from  fifteen 
to  twenty  seconds. 

The  work  of  the  life-savers  seldom  ends 
with  the  rescue.  After  all  have  been  brought 
ashore  from  a  wreck,  the  benumbed  and  help- 
less sufferers  are  quickly  conveyed  to  the  sta- 


244  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

tion-house,  transferred  for  the  moment  into  a 
hospital,  where  an  abundance  of  dry  clothing 
is  instantly  applied;  the  prostrated  ones  put 
to  bed;  lint,  plasters  and  bandages  supplied 
to  the  bruised  and  wounded,  and  stimulants 
from  the  medicine  chest,  never  absent  from 
any  station,  given  to  those  who  need  them. 
At  the  same  time  the  mess-cook  prepares  and 
serves  out  hot  coffee  alike  to  rescued  and  res- 
cuers. When  this  has  been  partaken  of,  the 
keeper  assigns  a  portion  of  the  crew  to  look 
after  the  needs  of  the  strangers  and  the  oth- 
ers retire  to  rest  until  called  to  relieve  the 
patrol. 

After  what  has  been  written  one  would  ex- 
pect to  find  rich  material  for  true  stories  of 
peril,  adventure  and  heroism;  and  for  ro- 
mances in  real  life  among  the  records  of  the 
life-saving  service — stories  that  never  fail  to 
stir  the  blood  and  quicken  the  pulse  of  those 
to  whom  they  are  told.  And  such  is  the  case. 
The  annals  of  the  service  are  replete  with 
splendid  deeds  of  daring,  and  each  month's 
record  adds  to  the  roll  of  honor.    Often  the 


LIFE-SAVING  ALONG  SHORE     245 

surf  men  know  they  are  going  forth  to  almost 
certain  death,  and  yet  never  a  moment  do  they 
falter.  A  year  or  so  ago  a  crew  that  res- 
cued four  sailors  from  a  stranded  vessel  un- 
der the  most  trying  conditions,  before  launch- 
ing their  boat,  left  their  slender  effects  in 
the  charge  of  a  comrade  for  the  benefit  of 
their  families — not  one  of  them  believing  that 
they  would  return  alive !  And  when  the  life- 
savers  went  off  through  the  violent  sea  to  res- 
cue those  on  board  the  German  ship  Eliza- 
beth, stranded  on  the  Virginia  coast,  in  Jan- 
uary, 1887,  all  but  two  of  the  crew  perished, 
together  with  the  entire  ship 's  company.  The 
brave  fellows '  doom  was  sealed  from  the  first, 
but  this  did  not  swerve  them  from  their  duty. 
One  of  the  saddest  chapters  in  the  annals  of 
the  service  deals  with  the  death  of  the  keeper 
and  two  of  the  surfmen  of  the  Peaked  Hill 
Bar  Station,  on  the  Massachusetts  coast.  In 
the  waning  hours  of  a  stormy  November 
night,  fifteen  years  ago,  the  sloop  Trum- 
bull was  descried  by  the  patrol  on  the  inner 
bar,  and  a  few  moments  later  the  lifeboat, 


246  THE    SEA   KOVEES 

manned  by  Keeper  Atkins  and  Surfmen 
Mayo,  Taylor,  Kelly,  Yonng  and  Fisher,  was 
on  the  way  to  the  rescue.  The  crew,  save 
two  who,  refusing  assistance,  remained  on 
board  the  vessel,  were  speedily  brought  to 
land.  The  gale  was  now  increasing  and  the 
sea  running  mountain  high,  but  Keeper  At- 
kins and  his  crew  again  essayed  the  rescue 
of  the  two  men,  who  still  remained  on  the 
Trumbull.  It  was  very  dark,  and  the  life- 
boat in  approaching  the  ship  was  struck  by  a 
swinging  boom  and  capsized.  After  clinging 
for  a  time  to  the  upturned  boat,  the  surfmen 
released  their  hold  and  attempted  to  swim  to 
shore,  Surfmen  Kelly,  Young  and  Fisher 
reached  the  beach  barely  alive,  and  were 
picked  up  and  tenderly  cared  for  by  a  com- 
rade, but  Keeper  Atkins  and  Surfmen  Mayo 
and  Taylor,  although  strong  swimmers,  were 
finally  overcome  and  vanished  in  the  storm 
and  darkness.  The  sea  gave  up  their  bodies 
many  hours  later,  and  there  were  few  dry 
eyes  among   the   hundreds  who  followed   to 


LIFE-SAVING  ALONG  SHORE    247 

their  graves  three  heroes  as  dauntless  as  ever 
were  sung  in  song  or  story. 

One  of  the  most  gallant  rescues  performed 
within  the  scope  of  the  service  stands  to  the 
credit  of  the  Dam  Neck  Mills  crew,  on  the 
coast  of  Virginia.  The  schooner  Jennie  Hall, 
bound  from  Trinidad  to  Baltimore,  sailing 
in  a  dense  fog,  struck  bottom  a  few  miles 
south  of  Cape  Henry.  A  tempest  was  blow- 
ing, and  a  deluge  of  sleet  blinded  and  be- 
numbed the  crew  as  they  clung  to  the  mizzen- 
mast,  on  which  they  had  taken  refuge.  The 
captain  had  been  swept  away  while  attempt- 
ing to  cross  the  deck,  and  it  seemed  certain 
that  the  almost  helpless  sailors  must  soon  fol- 
low him.  Blind  desperation  alone  gave  them 
strength  to  endure  until  the  morning.  Then, 
in  the  dawning  of  the  day,  through  the  lifting 
curtain  of  mist,  they  saw  the  life-savers  pre- 
paring to  attempt  their  rescue.  The  sea  was 
still  too  high  to  warrant  the  launching  of  the 
lifeboat.  What  must  be  done  was  to  get  a 
hawser  to  the  schooner,  and  then,  by  means 


248  THE    SEA   EOVEES 

of  the  breeches-buoy,  haul  off  the  wrecked 
men. 

The  gun  was,  therefore,  placed  in  position, 
and  the  shot-line  coiled  properly,  so  as  to  fol- 
low without  fouling.  The  ship  was  about  three 
hundred  yards  off  shore.  The  shot  was 
fired,  and  the  line  carried  just  over  the  rig- 
ging at  the  necessary  spot.  All  would  have 
gone  well  had  not  the  block  of  the  whip-line 
become  fouled.  The  men  on  the  mast  were 
too  exhausted  to  extricate  it,  so  the  whip-line 
was  hauled  to  shore,  and  the  shot-line  cut 
away.  Another  shot  was  fired.  This  time  it 
landed  out  of  the  reach  of  the  wrecked  men, 
now  almost  insensible  from  cold  and  exhaus- 
tion. Still  another  shot  was  fired,  this  time 
fairly  in  the  hands  of  the  unfortunates.  The 
whip-line  was  painfully  drawn  to  the  mast 
and  properly  made  fast.  Then  the  hawser 
was  drawn  slowly  from  shore,  and  also  prop- 
erly fixed  around  the  mast.  Just  as  the 
breeches-buoy  was  being  sent  out  to  make  the 
rescue  at  last,  just  as  safety  and  warmth  and 
life  were  within  their  grasp,  two  of  the  six 


LIFE-SAVING  ALONG  SHORE     249 

fell  to  the  deck,  struck  like  lead,  and  were 
washed  overboard,  never  more  to  be  seen. 
The  breeches-buoy  had  now  reached  the  mast. 
Two  of  the  men  managed  to  get  in,  and  were 
hauled  ashore,  unconscious,  very  nearly  dead. 
Again  the  buoy  went  on  its  errand  of  mercy, 
and  the  mate  was  brought  to  safety.  There 
was  still  one  man  left  on  the  mast.  The  buoy 
was  sent  back  for  him.  But  he  made  no  sign 
of  life. 

Somebody  must  go  out  for  him.  A  surf- 
man  by  the  name  of  O'Neal  put  himself  in 
the  buoy  and  was  hauled  to  the  wreck.  He 
found  that  the  man,  now  unconscious,  had  so 
firmly  lashed  himself  to  the  crosstrees  that  it 
was  not  in  his  power  to  extricate  him  without 
help.  So  he  returned  to  the  shore  for  an  as- 
sistant. An  ex-surfman,  Drinkwater  by 
name,  volunteered  to  go  back  with  him.  The 
sea  having  gone  down  a  trifle,  the  keeper  de- 
cided to  place  them  on  board  the  wreck  by  the 
lifeboat.  A  crew  was  called,  and  the  res- 
cuers rowed  out  through  a  still  tremendous 
sea  to  the  Jennie  Hall.      The  two  men  skil- 


250  THE    SEA   EOVEES 

fully  got  aboard,  and  climbed  the  mast,  the 
lifeboat  in  the  meanwhile,  after  nearly  a  fatal 
accident,  returning  to  the  beach.  Even  with 
help,  0  'Neal  had  great  difficulty  in  getting  the 
remaining  sailor  out  of  the  rigging.  But  it 
was  finally  done,  and  the  well-nigh  frozen  man 
sent  ashore.  Then  the  two  life-savers  re- 
turned in  the  buoy. 

The  records  of  the  live-saving  crews  of  the 
Great  Lakes  also  abound  with  thrilling  and 
heroic  incidents.  These  vast  inland  seas,  with 
2,500  miles  of  American  coast-line,  are  sub- 
ject to  sudden  and  violent  gales,  in  which  an- 
chored vessels  are  swept  fore  and  aft,  often 
causing  their  total  destruction,  while  others 
seeking  shelter  in  harbors  are  driven  help- 
lessly upon  jutting  piers  or  the  still  more  dan- 
gerous beach ;  and  frequently  just  before  winr 
ter  suspends  navigation  on  the  lakes,  a  single 
life-saving  crew  is  employed  upon  several 
wrecks  at  a  time.  Again,  the  lifeboats  often 
go  under  sail  and  oar  many  miles  from  their 
station  to  aid  vessels  in  distress.  "When  the 
steamer  Bestchey  was  wrecked  near  Grind- 


LIFE-SAVING  ALONG  SHORE     251 

stone  City,  seven  miles  from  the  Point  anx 
Barques  station,  on  Lake  Huron,  a  few  years 
ago,  the  crew  hurried  to  the  rescue,  and  found 
several  hundred  people  watching  the  breaking 
up  of  the  wreck,  but  powerless  to  aid  the  pas- 
sengers and  crew,  who,  for  ten  hours,  had 
been  face  to  face  with  suffering  and  death. 
When  the  lifeboat  had  been  launched  and  the 
ship 's  side  gained,  two  of  the  surf  men  leaped 
into  the  water,  and  by  the  aid  of  ropes,  after 
a  desperate  struggle  gained  the  steamer's 
deck  and  directed  the  difficult  and  dangerous 
task  of  transferring  those  on  board  to  the 
boat.  Eleven  women  and  a  small  boy  were 
lowered  over  the  bulwarks,  and  the  boat,  shov- 
ing off,  gained  the  pier  in  safety.  Four  trips 
were  made  within  an  hour,  and  all  on  board, 
more  than  forty  persons,  brought  ashore.  A 
few  months  later  the  Point  aux  Barques  crew 
responded  to  signals  of  distress  displayed  by 
a  vessel  three  miles  away,  and  in  the  fearful 
storm  that  was  raging,  their  boat  was  cap- 
sized. The  men  tried  to  cling  to  it,  but  the 
cold  overcame  them,  and  one  after  another 


252  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

perished  until  six  were  gone.  Only  the 
keeper,  bruised  and  insensible,  was  washed 
ashore,  and  he  was  so  badly  injured  that  he 
was  forced  to  resign  his  position.  Thus  in 
one  day,  the  service  lost  all  the  members  of 
one  of  its  most  skilful  and  gallant  crews.  Dur- 
ing the  same  year  the  men  at  the  Point  aux 
Barques  Station  had  been  the  means  of  saving 
more  than  a  hundred  lives. 

Still  the  life  of  the  surfmen  has  its  merry, 
as  well  as  its  serious  moods.  Each  station  is 
provided  with  a  small  but  well  selected  li- 
brary, and  the  men  find  it  a  constant  source 
of  instruction  and  delight.  Then  there  is  al- 
ways in  every  crew  one  or  two  who  can  play  a 
violin,  flute  or  accordion,  and  often  when  the 
weather  is  fine  and  the  wind  off  shore,  the 
surfmen  gather  in  the  messroom  and  listen  to 
the  music  of  their  companions  or  sing  songs 
and  spin  yarns,  the  latter  couched  in  a  quaint 
and  awkward  vernacular,  yet  full  of  life  and 
spirit,  and  redolent  of  the  sea  and  the  waves. 
Often  on  clear,  moonlit  nights  there  are  ' '  sur- 
prise parties ' '  at  the  station,  made  up  of  the 


LIFE-SAVING  ALONG  SHORE     253 

wives,  sisters  and  sweethearts  of  the  crew, 
who  always  bring  with  them  a  generous  store 
of  household  dainties  for  those  they  love,  sure 
to  prove  a  welcome  addition  to  the  surf  men's 
plain,  but  substantial  fare.  On  such  occa- 
sions the  boat-room  is  quickly  cleared  for  the 
dance,  and  joy  and  merriment  hold  unfettered 
sway.  And,  yet,  never  is  the  patrol  relaxed, 
nor  do  the  surfmen  forget  the  stern  call  to 
duty  that  may  come  to  them  at  any  moment. 
"When  I  see  a  man  clinging  to  a  wreck,' '  said 
a  sturdy  surf  man,  not  long  ago,  "I  see  noth- 
ing else  in  the  world,  nor  think  of  family  and 
friends  until  I  have  saved  him."  And  it  is 
but  simple  truth  to  say  that  this  heroic  spirit 
animates  every  member  of  the  life-saving 
service. 


CHAPTER  X 

WHALEES  OF  THE  AECTIC  SEA 

In  the  streets  and  hotels,  or  more  often  the 
smoking-room  of  the  custom-honse  of  the 
beautiful  old  town  of  New  Bedford,  Mas- 
sachusetts, one  meets  in  these  latter  times 
certain  quiet,  elderly  men  who,  save  for  their 
weather-beaten  faces,  an  occasional  scar,  the 
deference  shown  them,  and  the  title  of  * '  cap- 
tain, ' '  give  no  sign  of  the  stormy  and  adven- 
turous lives  they  have  led.  These  nlen  be- 
long to  a  most  interesting  class,  and  one 
which  promises  to  soon  become  extinct.  They 
are  the  whaling  captains  of  the  old  days,  when, 
with  whaling  still  one  of  the  most  prosperous 
and  important  of  our  national  industries,  the 
New  Bedford  whalers  carried  the  American 
flag  to  the  most  distant  parts  of  the  globe,  and 

254 


WHALERS  OF  THE  ARCTIC  SEA  255 

yearly  poured  a  golden  stream  into  the 
strong-boxes  of  their  shrewd  and  venture- 
some owners.  Cabin-boys  at  twelve,  captains 
before  they  were  twenty-five,  at  fifty, 
stranded  hulks — having  often  made  and  lost 
great  fortunes,  made  them  for  others,  lost 
them  for  themselves — in  such  quiet  havens  as 
chance  or  fortune  affords,  they  now  peace- 
fully and  with  perfect  contentment  await  the 
end  that  sooner  or  later  comes  to  us  all. 

For  more  than  a  century,  New  Bedford  has 
been  the  centre  in  this  country  of  the  indus- 
try of  which  these  old  captains  are  pathetic 
reminders;  but  in  recent  years  it  has  made 
San  Francisco  the  headquarters  of  its  ships. 
They  all  carry  the  name  of  New  Bedford 
on  their  sterns,  and  are  owned  and  com- 
manded by  New  Bedford  men;  but,  as  whal- 
ing is  now  mainly  carried  on  in  Alaskan 
waters,  San  Francisco  has  become  the  princi- 
pal point  of  arrival  and  departure.  Only  the 
Atlantic  whalers,  dwindled  now  to  less  than 
a  dozen,  still  headquarter  in  the  old  capital 
of  the  trade.    The  ships  engaged  in  the  whale 


256  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

trade  are  clumsy  in  appearance,  and  much 
smaller  than  most  people  would  imagine,  be- 
ing rarely  as  large  as  the  three-masted 
schooners  used  in  the  coasting  trade.  They 
are  strongly  built,  wide  amidships,  and  as 
broad  as  Dutch  galleons  at  the  bow.  They 
are  so  treated  with  pitch  and  tar  as  to  last 
for  generations,  and  are  constantly  repaired, 
a  part  at  a  time.  Some  of  the  stanchest  ves- 
sels in  the  trade  are  more  than  half  a  century 
old,  and  promise  to  do  duty  for  many  years 
to  come. 

The  fleet  sailing  from  San  Francisco  num- 
bers between  forty  and  fifty  vessels.  Some 
of  the  captains  sail  in  November,  and  spend 
the  winter  in  sperm  whaling,  putting  into 
Honolulu  for  fresh  supplies  at  the  approach 
of  spring,  but  the  majority  leave  in  March. 
The  whales  are  fast  being  driven  from  the 
Pacific,  and  every  year  the  whalers  are  forced 
to  go  farther  and  farther  north  for  them. 
Only  a  few  years  ago,  whales  were  plentiful 
in  the  Northern  Pacific  and  Behring  and 
Okhotsk  Seas,  but  now  the  whalers  have  to 


WHALERS  OF  THE  ARCTIC  SEA  257 

push  far  into  the  Arctic  to  find  their  game.  To 
make  a  voyage  profitable,  a  ship  must  often 
spend  several  seasons  in  the  north,  and  last 
year  the  San  Francisco  fleet  sailed  prepared 
for  a  three  years'  cruise.  Many  of  the  cap- 
tains took  their  wives  and  children  with  them. 
They  reached  Herschel  Island  late  in  August, 
spending  last  winter  as  they  will  the  next  two, 
in  comfortable  quarters  at  Pauline  Cove,  re- 
turning to  the  United  States  in  the  fall  of 
1909.  Pianos  and  pool  and  billiard  tables 
were  taken  along  to  help  while  away  the  long 
winters,  and  the  members  of  the  fleet,  when 
they  return,  are  sure  to  have  many  an  inter- 
esting and  stirring  story  to  tell. 

In  order  to  complete  the  preparations  for 
its  Arctic  work,  each  whaler,  after  leaving 
San  Francisco,  cruises  for  a  few  weeks  in  the 
central  Pacific.  During  this  cruise  the  crow's 
nest,  or  lookout,  is  put  in  place,  the  boats  are 
scrubbed,  painted  and  fitted  with  sails,  steer- 
ing-gear and  oars  and  the  whaling  apparatus 
thoroughly  overhauled.  Then  the  ship's  rig- 
ging receives  careful  attention,  weak  spots  be- 


258  THE    SEA   BOVERS 

ing  made  strong,  and  old  sails  patched  or  re- 
placed, and  finally,  the  hold  is  restowed  and 
put  in  shape  for  the  long  voyage.  The  crew 
of  a  whaler  includes,  besides  the  captain,  four 
mates,  one  boat-leader,  four  boat-steerers,  a 
steward,  cook,  carpenter,  cooper,  steerage  and 
cabin  boys,  and  from  twelve  to  twenty  able 
seamen.  The  men  instead  of  being  paid  reg- 
ular wages,  receive  a  portion  of  the  profits  of 
the  cruise.  The  captain  receives  a  twelfth, 
the  first  mate  a  twentieth,  the  second  mate  and 
boat-leader  each  a  twenty-fifth,  the  third  mate 
a  thirtieth,  the  carpenter,  cooper  and  steward 
each  a  fiftieth,  and  the  sailors  each  a  hundred 
and  seventy-fifth.  The  captain's  portion 
ranges  from  nothing  to  $7,000  or  $8,000,  ac- 
cording to  the  number  of  whales  taken  dur- 
ing a  cruise.  If  a  ship  secures  twelve  whales 
during  a  cruise,  the  captain  will  receive  about 
$3,000  and  a  sailor  $200.  The  sailors  usually 
receive  an  advance  of  $60  each,  and  during 
a  cruise  are  allowed  to  draw  tobacco,  clothing 
and  the  like,  from  the  ship's  supplies,  to  the 
amount  of  $60  or  $80.     Both  officers  and  men 


WHALERS  OF  THE  ARCTIC  SEA  259 

keenly  appreciate  this  co-operative  system, 
and  toil  with  great  zeal  in  the  hope  of  extra 
reward.  Formerly  whales  were  valued  chiefly 
for  the  oil,  but  the  discovery  of  petroleum 
worked  a  change,  and  the  whalebone  is  now 
the  main  thing  sought.  This  product  is  worth 
from  $4  to  $5  a  pound,  and  the  average  whale 
contains  a  little  less  than  a  ton  of  bone. 

The  officers  of  an  Arctic  whaler  are  gener- 
ally Yankees,  but  all  countries  are  repre- 
sented in  the  forecastle.  Americans,  Britons, 
Swedes,  Portuguese,  Germans,  Spaniards, 
Kanakas,  a  few  stray  cowboys,  and  three  or 
four  'Frisco  hoodlums  are  often  found  in  the 
same  crew.  Now  and  then  desperate  crimi- 
nals seek  an  Arctic  cruise  to  escape  punish- 
ment for  their  misdeeds,  and  sometimes  in- 
duce a  crew  to  mutiny.  Such  an  experience 
befell  Captain  Edmund  Kelly,  now  living  in 
retirement  in  New  Bedford,  when  he  was  mas- 
ter of  the  Lucretia.  His  crew,  prompted  by 
three  ruffians,  who  had  crept  in  among  them, 
refused  duty  soon  after  the  ship  entered  Beh- 
ring  Sea,  and  retreated  to  the  forecastle,  but 


260  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

not  before  the  captain  had  emptied  it  of  such 
food  as  it  contained.  When  asked  to  state 
their  grievances  they  demanded  the  release  of 
one  of  their  shipmates  who  had  been  pnt  in 
irons  for  disobedience.  This  demand  Kelly 
refused  to  grant,  and  locked  them  in  the  fore- 
castle, determined,  if  possible,  to  starve  them 
into  submission. 

On  the  third  morning  the  crew,  who  were  all 
armed  with  knives  and  revolvers,  broke  out  of 
this  improvised  prison  and  demanded  "bread 
or  blood. ' '  The  captain  appealed  to  them  to 
return  to  duty,  but  the  three  ring-leaders 
threatened  to  shoot  the  first  man  who  wav- 
ered, and  none  responded.  It  was  a  critical 
moment,  but  Kelly,  sprung  from  a  race  of 
fighting  men,  proved  equal  to  it.  Picking  up 
a  rifle,  he  walked  in  among  the  mutineers,  and 
singling  out  the  leader,  ordered  him  to  sur- 
render. The  man  refused,  and  the  captain 
raised  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder,  but  before  he 
could  fire,  the  mutineer  snapped  a  revolver 
twice  in  his  face,  and  then  took  refuge  among 
his  companions.      Kelly  tried  to  follow  him, 


WHALERS  OF  THE  ARCTIC  SEA  261 

but  his  progress  was  impeded  by  the  crew, 
and  the  rascal  he  was  seeking  now  stole  up 
behind  him,  took  careful  aim,  and  fired.  The 
officers,  who  were  standing  aft  in  a  group, 
thinking  their  captain  had  been  killed,  fired 
upon  the  mutineer,  wounding  him  in  the  leg. 
Happily,  however,  Kelly  had  only  received  a 
slight  scalp  wound.  He  regained  his  feet  in 
an  instant,  and  facing  the  mutineer,  who  was 
now  crawling  towards  him  with  cocked  revol- 
ver in  hand,  took  aim  and  fired,  whereat  the 
man  fell  back  dead  with  a  bullet  in  his  heart. 
The  others,  begging  for  mercy,  threw  down 
their  arms,  and  the  mutiny  was  at  an  end. 
During  the  rest  of  the  voyage  they  proved  a 
most  obedient  and  tractable  crew.  When 
Captain  Kelly  returned  to  San  Francisco,  he 
reported  the  affair  to  the  federal  courts.  The 
judge  who  heard  the  evidence  discharged  him, 
and  at  the  same  time  reproved  him  for  failing 
to  shoot  the  other  leaders  of  the  mutiny. 

When  all  is  in  readiness  for  the  Arctic 
cruise,  the  captain  of  a  whaler  changes  the 
southwesterly  course  he  has  followed  since 


262  THE   SEA  BOVEBS 

leaving  port,  and  heads  for  the  north.  The 
passage  through  Behring  Sea,  on  account  of 
the  great  fields  of  floating  ice  which  fill  that 
body  at  all  seasons,  is  always  a  trying  and 
often  a  dangerous  one,  and  the  whaling  mas- 
ters must  of  necessity  be  most  skilful  navi- 
gators. Pushing  a  ship  in  safety  from  lead 
to  lead,  and  among  the  threatening  cakes  of 
an  ice-floe,  calls  for  the  most  consummate 
skill,  and  it  is  a  lesson  mastered  by  sailors 
only  after  a  long  and  hard  experience.  In 
addition  to  the  highest  skill,  the  captain — or 
disaster  surely  awaits  him — must  possess  a 
resolute  will  that  falters  not,  even  in  the  face 
of  death.  For  weeks  his  ship  is  seldom  out 
of  peril,  and  he  must  be  ready  at  all  times 
to  make  his  escape  from  a  threatening  pack 
or  an  approaching  floe. 

Some  years  ago,  the  ship  Hunter,  Cap- 
tain Cogan,  when  off  St.  Lawrence  Island, 
was  caught  in  a  whirlpool  and  seriously  dis- 
abled. He  patched  up  his  ship  as  best  he 
could  and  made  a  fresh  start.  Off  Icy  Cape, 
bottom  ice  was  struck,  causing  a  serious  leak, 


.WHALERS  OF  THE  ARCTIC  SEA  263 

and  the  captain  was  forced  to  seek  refuge  in 
the  nearest  haven.  Here  every  movable  ob- 
ject was  taken  out  of  the  ship  and  carried 
on  shore.  Then  the  spars  were  unshipped 
and  converted  into  a  raft,  which  was  anchored 
at  both  ends  and  steadied  with  water  casks. 
Using  the  raft  as  a  wharf,  and  in  the  face  of 
a  blinding  storm,  the  ship  was  hove  down,  the 
keel  raised  above  the  surface  of  the  water, 
and  the  leak  repaired.  Captain  Cogan's 
cruise  up  to  that  time  had  been  a  fruitless  one, 
but  three  months  later  he  sailed  safely  into 
port  with  a  valuable  cargo.  Similar  experi- 
ences befall  the  whalers  every  year. 

During  the  long  and  toilsome  passage 
through  Behring  Sea,  a  sharp  lookout  is  kept 
for  whales,  but  few  are  now  caught  south  of 
Cape  Navarin,  and  whaling  does  not  com- 
mence in  earnest  until  the  ships  are  well  out 
into  the  Arctic.  Each  ship  has  five  whale- 
boats,  and  when  the  lookout  in  the  crow's  nest 
reports  a  whale  in  sight,  the  crews  spring  into 
them  and  are  off  in  an  instant.  The  captain, 
however,  remains  on  the  ship,  and  from  the 


264  THE    SEA   BOVERS 

crow's  nest  directs  the  boats  by  a   code   of 
signals. 

The  boats  always  approach  their  prey  un- 
der sail,  as  the  use  of  paddle  or  oar  would 
startle  the  whale  and  cause  it  to  beat  a  hasty 
retreat.  The  old  method  of  whaling  with 
harpoons  and  lances  thrown  by  hand  has  been 
superseded  during  the  last  twenty  years  by 
the  whale-gun,  and  as  a  consequence  what  was 
once  a  royal  sport  has  now  sadly  degenerated. 
The  new  weapon  is  a  heavy  metallic  shoulder- 
gun  fastened  to  a  pole  about  six  feet  long.  As 
the  boat  nears  its  intended  victim,  a  harpoon 
attached  to  several  hundred  fathoms  of  line  is 
shot  from  the  gun,  and  having  been  "made 
fast,"  a  bomb,  filled  with  an  explosive  equal 
to  about  ten  pounds  of  giant  powder,  is  fired 
into  the  huge  body  near  the  head.  The  mis- 
sile, exploding  as  it  buries  itself  in  the  flesh, 
blows  a  great  hole  almost  in  the  vitals  of  the 
monster,  and  death  quickly  follows.  When 
the  bomb  fails  to  cause  instant  death  or  in- 
flict a  mortal  wound,  a  second  harpoon  with 
a  dynamite  attachment  is  thrown,  the  needle 


WHALERS  OF  THE  AECTIC  SEA  265 

point  of  the  spear,  as  it  sinks  into  the  flesh, 
exploding  the  bomb.  The  second  wound 
nearly  always  causes  instant  death;  but  if 
not,  the  harpoons  cling  to  the  whale,  and  with 
lines  attached,  the  whalers  quietly  await  the 
reappearance  of  the  whale — which  seeks  re- 
lief by  plunging  beneath  the  surf  ace — for  an- 
other shot  at  it  from  the  gun,  which  has  in 
the  meantime  been  reloaded.  There  is  small 
chance  for  escape,  and  another  bomb  or  har- 
poon from  the  gun  speedily  ends  the  most 
desperate  struggle  for  life.  The  sperm  whale, 
the  favorite  game  of  the  old-time  whalers, 
always  puts  up  a  stout  battle,  but  the  bow- 
head  whale,  found  in  polar  waters,  is  timid, 
and  dies  meekly. 

When  the  whale,  its  struggles  ended,  rolls 
over  dead,  the  vessel  gets  up  sail  and  makes 
its  way  to  the  body,  taking  it  on  the  star- 
board side,  in  front  of  the  gangway.  A  stage 
is  rigged  over  the  side  and  just  above  the 
floating  carcass,  which  is  secured  fore  and 
aft  by  chains.  Then  the  process  of  taking 
the  bone  and  blubber  from   the    body  com- 


266  THE    SEA   EOVERS 

mences.  First  a  cut  is  made  through  the 
deep  layer  of  fat  beginning  at  the  nose,  and,  if 
all  the  blubber  is  to  be  taken  off,  running  back 
to  the  flukes  or  tail.  Next  cross-incisions  are 
made  every  four  or  five  feet,  and  strips  of  the 
fat  encircling  the  whale  are  marked  out.  After 
this,  tackle  is  attached  to  one  end  of  these 
strips,  and  men  on  the  stage  sever  the  strip 
of  blubber  from  the  body,  as  it  is  then  being 
hoisted  on  board.  Each  strip,  as  it  is  taken 
off,  rolls  the  whale  around  in  the  water. 

The  most  difficult  part  of  the  operation 
I  am  describing  is  cutting  off  the  head,  which 
contains  all  the  whalebone.  A  single  false 
move  may  destroy  hundreds  of  dollars  -  worth 
of  bone,  or  perhaps  entail  the  loss  of  the  en- 
tire head.  Axes  are  used,  and  it  takes  a  great 
deal  of  hard  and  skilful  chopping  to  pierce  the 
mountain  of  flesh.  When  the  backbone  has 
been  chopped  nearly  through,  a  jerk  of  the 
tackle  breaks  the  remainder,  and  the  head  is 
then  hauled  on  deck.  As  a  large  whale's 
head  frequently  contains  several  thousand 
dollars  worth  of  bone,  the  suspense  and  anxi- 


WHALERS  OF  THE  ARCTIC  SEA  267 

ety  of  the  whaler  while  it  is  being  taken  off 
can  be  readily  understood.  When  the  head 
has  been  secured,  the  work  of  taking  off  the 
remainder  of  the  blubber  is  resumed.  Some 
vessels  save  only  the  bone,  and  cast  the  body 
adrift  after  the  head  has  been  cut  off,  but 
these  are  usually  ships  without  the  needed 
apparatus  for  trying  out  the  oil.  When  the 
blubber  has  all  been  stripped  from  the  car- 
cass, it  is  cut  up  into  small  pieces,  and  for 
several  days  thereafter  the  crew  is  briskly 
employed  "trying  out"  the  oil  and  stowing 
it  away  in  casks.  A  large  cube  of  bricks  amid- 
ships contains  two  great  iron  kettles  with 
fireplaces  beneath,  and  in  these  the  oil  is 
boiled  from  the  blubber.  Black  smoke  and 
foul  smell  attend  this  operation,  and  only  an 
old  whaler  will  go  to  the  leeward  of  the  great 
pots  when  it  is  in  progress. 

There  is  little  to  break  the  monotony  of  the 
whaler's  life  while  at  work.  Day  after  day 
the  same  routine  is  repeated,  broken  only  by 
an  occasional  storm,  or  visits  in  leisure  hours 
to  neighboring  vessels.    But  about  the  whaler 


268  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

there  is  always  the  glamor  of  the  Arctic, 
which  those  who  have  once  felt  its  spell  say 
can  never  be  forgotten — by  day  its  marvel- 
lous mirages,  weirdly  reflecting  distant  ships, 
or  the  ice  piled  in  huge,  fantastic  masses ;  at 
night  the  sombre  glory  of  the  aurora  borealis, 
and  always  the  cold,  serene  purity  of  ice  and 
water  and  sky.  When  winter  approaches,  if 
one  or  more  ships  are  to  spend  a  second  sea- 
son in  polar  waters,  quarters  are  built  in  some 
sheltered  spot  on  land,  and  there,  early  in  Oc- 
tober, all  the  vessels  rendezvous.  On  each 
ship  the  space  between-decks  is  cleared, 
stoves  set  up,  and  bunks  arranged  along  the 
middle,  away  from  the  sides,  so  that  the  cold 
will  not  so  quickly  reach  the  men  through  the 
vessel 's  timbers.  When  the  ice  forms  around 
the  ship,  high  banks  of  snow  are  piled  about 
it  to  break  the  force  of  the  piercing  winds,  and 
snow  is  also  piled  upon  the  roof  built  over  the 
decks.  This  snow  soon  freezes  and  will  not 
drift  with  the  fiercest  of  gales.  Thus  pre- 
pared for,  a  winter  in  the  Arctic  has  lost 
many  of  its  former  terrors* 


WHALERS  OF  THE  ARCTIC  SEA  269 

The  whaler's  homeward  passage  through 
Behring  Sea  is  often  more  difficult  and  dan- 
gerous than  the  outward  voyage.  With  sud- 
den gales,  treachjerous  currents,  blinding 
snowstorms,  and  long,  dark  nights,  each  mas- 
ter must  literally  feel  his  way  with  the  lead, 
getting  such  aid  as  he  can  from  log  and  look- 
out. Every  captain  breathes  a  sigh  of  relief 
when  he  has  passed  the  Straits  and  is  once 
more  in  the  Pacific,  southward  bound.  There 
is  plenty  of  work  on  the  return  passage.  The 
crow's  nest  must  be  taken  down  and  stowed 
away  for  another  cruise;  the  masts  scraped 
and  varnished;  the  ship  scoured  and  cleaned 
above  and  below ;  and  finally,  if  it  is  a  steam 
vessel,  the  sails  unbent  and  stowed  away.  Just 
before  entering  port,  the  crew  discard  their 
skin  clothing.  A  few  hours  later  the  voyage 
is  at  an  end,  and  the  men  are  tasting,  perhaps 
for  the  first  time  in  years,  the  delights  and 
comforts  of  life  on  shore,  and  spending  with 
open  hand  the  money  they  have  worked  so 
long  and  so  hard  to  earn. 

Whaling  in  the  Arctic  saw  its  best  days  in 


270  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

1852,  when  the  fleet  numbered  250  vessels  and 
the  value  of  the  catch  exceeded  $14,000,000. 
Its  gradual  decline  began  a  little  later,  but  it 
received  its  first  serious  set-back  in  June, 
1865,  when  the  Confederate  cruiser  Shenan- 
doah, making  its  way  without  warning  into 
the  Arctic,  burned  thirty  and  captured  four 
other  whalers.  New  Bedford's  loss  alone 
was  twenty-three  vessels,  which,  with  their 
outfits,  were  valued  at  more  than  a  million 
dollars.  Since  then,  wind  and  ice,  the  ever- 
present  perils  of  the  whaler,  have  caused  two 
appalling  disasters,  and  further  hastened  the 
decline  of  the  trade.  The  first  of  these  dis- 
asters occurred  in  1871.  Between  August  11th 
and  29th  of  that  year,  the  ice  closed  in  upon 
the  whaling  fleet  at  work  near  Wainright  In- 
let, and  at  the  end  of  the  month  thirty-three 
vessels  were  helpless  prisoners.  During  the 
next  week  three  vessels  were  crushed  or  car- 
ried off  by  the  ice,  the  crew  in  each  instance 
narrowly  escaping  with  their  lives.  Each 
day  the  ice  packed  closer  and  it  became  ap- 
parent to  the  captains,  who  held  daily  meet- 


WHALERS  OF  THE  ARCTIC  SEA  271 

ings  to  discuss  the  situation,  that  for  their 
ships  at  least,  escape  was  hopeless.  There 
was  not  the  time  nor  material  to  build  winter 
quarters  on  land,  and  even  had  this  been  pos- 
sible, the  scanty  stock  of  provisions  could 
only  postpone  certain  starvation,  or  death  by 
scurvy  and  disease,  during  the  eleven  months 
that  must  elapse  before  they  could  hope  for 
relief  to  reach  them  from  the  outer  world. 
And  so  it  became  clear  that  the  crews 
must  be  got  away  before  winter  came  or  all 
would  perish. 

Captain  David  Frazer,  who,  with  two 
whaleboats,  had  been  sent  to  the  south  to  see 
what  could  be  done,  returned  on  September 
12th  and  reported  that  he  had  found  the  rest 
of  the  fleet,  seven  ships,  off  Icy  Cape,  ninety 
miles  to  the  south.  They  were  also,,  he  said, 
fast  in  the  ice,  but  would  be  able  to  work  their 
way  out  and  would  lie  by  to  aid  their  dis- 
tressed companions.  On  the  receipt  of  this 
news,  the  captains,  some  of  whom  were  ac- 
companied by  their  wives  and  children,  met  to 
decide  upon  a  final  course  of  action.      Three 


272  THE    SEA   BOVERS 

million  dollars '  worth  of  property  and  1,200 
lives  were  at  stake,  and  to  save  the  latter  all 
else  must  be  sacrificed.  It  was  then  resolved, 
unless  the  weather  moderated,  to  abandon  the 
fleet  next  day.  Morning  brought  no  change 
and  the  most  daring  were  convinced  that 
nothing  but  flight  remained.  The  200  whale- 
boats  of  the  fleet  were  manned  by  their  crews 
and  the  southward  journey  begun.  There  was 
a  narrow  strip  of  water  between  the  ice  and 
shore,  and  through  this  the  sad  procession 
made  its  way. 

At  night  a  camp  was  made  on  shore,  and  on 
the  second  day  the  boats  reached  Blossom 
Shoals,  and  came  in  sight  of  the  refuge  ves- 
sels. They  were  lying  ^.ve  miles  out  from 
shore  and  behind  a  tongue  of  ice  which 
stretched  ten  miles  farther  down  the  coast. 
Around  this  obstruction  the  crews  were 
forced  to  make  their  way  before  they  could 
get  on  board.  On  the  outer  side  of  this  icy 
peninsula  a  fearful  gale  was  encountered  and 
the  boats  were  tossed  about  like  corks;  but 
by  four  in  the  afternoon  all  dangers  were 


.WHALERS  OF  THE  ABCTIC  SEA  273 

safely  passed  and  the  1,200  refugees  distrib- 
uted among  the  several  vessels  of  the  fleet. 
Sail  was  made  at  once,  and  on  October  24th 
the  first  of  the  ships  reached  Honolulu,  the 
others  following  speedily.  Of  the  splendid 
fleet  of  forty  vessels  that  had  sailed  north- 
ward less  than  a  year  before,  only  these  seven 
returned;  but  not  a  life  was  lost.  When  in 
the  following  year  some  of  the  captains  vis- 
ited the  locality  where  the  ships  were  lost, 
they  found  that  with  one  or  two  exceptions 
they  had  all  been  carried  away  by  the  ice, 
ground  to  pieces,  or  burned  by  the  people  of  a 
near-by  Eskimo  village.  The  value  of  the 
wrecked  vessels  sailing  from  New  Bedford 
exceeded,  with  their  cargoes,  a  million  dollars. 
Some  of  the  city's  wealthiest  whaling-masters 
were  ruined  and  many  more  badly  crippled  by 
the  disaster. 

Compared  with  the  disaster  of  1871,  that 
of  1876  was  much  less  destructive  to  property, 
but  vastly  more  appalling  by  reason  of  the 
great  loss  of  life  with  which  it  was  attended. 
The  whaling  fleet  reached  Point  Barrow  early 


274  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

in  August,  1876,  and  began  whaling.  Strong 
currents  and  constantly  moving  ice  made 
work  difficult  from  the  first,  and  in  the  end 
the  pack  suddenly  closed  in  upon  the  fleet. 
Four  vessels  made  their  escape,  but  the  rest 
were  carried  slowly  away  towards  the  north- 
ward, great  jams  at  the  same  time  choking  up 
every  avenue  leading  to  the  south.  With  cold 
weather  fast  approaching,  it  was  plainly  im- 
possible to  release  the  ships  from  their  icy 
prison.  A  majority  of  the  masters  resolved 
to  take  to  the  boats  as  the  only  chance  for 
escape,  but  five  of  the  captains,  with  their 
crews,  hoping  against  hope,  refused  to  leave 
their  ships.  Progress  over  the  ice  was  slow 
and  painful.  With  infinite  labor  the  boats 
would  be  hauled  for  a  mile  or  so  over  the  ice 
and  then  the  men  would  return  for  the  pro- 
visions and  clothing  they  had  taken  from  the 
ships.  At  night  they  crawled  under  the  up- 
turned boats  and  slept  as  best  they  could  on 
the  ice.  Late  in  the  evening  of  the  third  day 
land  was  reached,  and  after  resting  and  dry- 
ing their  clothes  the  captains  decided  to  push 


WHALERS  OF  THE  ARCTIC  SEA  275 

on  at  once  to  the   ships   lying  below   Point 
Barrow. 

At  the  end  of  a  week,  exhausted,  half -frozen 
and  starving,  they  reached  this  refuge,  and 
were  kindly  received  by  their  fellow  captains. 
The  men  were  divided  among  the  several 
ships,  and  as  soon  as  the  wind  opened  the  ice 
the  return  voyage  began.  When  the  Golden 
Gate  was  reached,  the  last  piece  of  meat  was 
in  the  copper  and  the  last  loaf  of  bread  in 
the  oven.  Out  of  a  fleet  of  twenty  vessels, 
twelve  had  been  sunk  or  abandoned,  with  a 
loss  of  over  $800,000.  On  the  southward 
journey  over  the  ice,  two  of  the  captains  be- 
thought them  of  some  valuable  furs  they  had 
left  behind,  and  decided  to  return  for  them. 
They  made  the  trip  in  safety  and  had  a  warm 
welcome  from  those  who  had  remained  on  the 
ships,  but  the  latter  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  their 
earnest  appeals  to  return  with  them,  and 
the  two  captains  again  pushed  southward 
alone.  Since  that  hour  nothing  has  been 
seen  or  heard  of  the  ships  or  of  the  150  men 
who  refused  to  leave  them.      In  the  silence 


276  THE    SEA   ROVERS 

and  darkness  of  the  long  Arctic  winter  they 
perished  and  gave  no  sign.  How  passed  their 
final  hours?  A  grisly  and  gruesome  story 
which  all  whalers  tell  offers  a  partial  answer 
to  this  question.  Many  years  ago  Captain 
Warrens,  of  the  whaler  Greenland,  while  ly- 
ing becalmed  among  icebergs,  sighted  a  dis- 
mantled and  apparently  deserted  vessel.  The 
boat's  crew  sent  off  to  the  stranger  found 
the  deck  deserted;  but  seated  at  a  table  in 
the  cabin  was  the  corpse  of  a  man  covered 
with  green,  damp  mould.  A  pen  was  still 
clutched  in  the  stiffened  hand,  and  on  the 
table  lay  a  log-book  containing  this  last 
entry : 

"We  have  now  been  enclosed  in  the  ice 
seventeen  days.  The  fire  went  out  yesterday 
and  our  master  has  been  trying  ever  since  to 
kindle  it  again,  without  success.  His  wife 
died  this  morning.     There  is  no  relief." 

The  corpse  of  another  man  was  found  on 
the  floor,  and  in  one  of  the  cabin  berths  lay 
the  dead  body  of  a  woman.  The  corpse  of 
the   cabin-boy   crouched   at   the  foot  of  the 


WHALERS  OF  THE  ABCTIC  SEA  277 

gangway.  Scattered  about  the  forecastle  lay 
the  dead  bodies  of  the  crew.  The,  ship  was 
barren  of  fuel  or  food.  It  had  been  frozen 
in  the  ice  thirteen  years.  Perhaps  in  similar 
manner  this  later  Arctic  mystery  may  yet  find 
startling  solution. 

There  have  been  few  whalers  lost  during 
the  last  twenty  years.  This  has  been  due  to 
the  gradual  introduction,  since  1880,  of  steam- 
whalers,  which  act  as  tugs  to  the  sailing  ships 
when  in  danger,  and  to  the  constant  presence 
in  the  Arctic  of  one  or  more  revenue  cutters, 
which  render  efficient  aid  every  season,  and 
convey  to  San  Francisco  the  crews  of  such 
vessels  as  are  lost — the  Corwin  on  one  of  its 
cruises  saving  an  entire  fleet  from  destruc- 
tion. With  these  extra  safeguards,  the  trade 
would  doubtless  have  speedily  recovered  from 
the  disasters  I  have  described,  but  for  the 
gradual  disappearance  of  the  whale  itself. 
Each  year,  the  whales,  to  escape  pursuit,  push 
still  farther  into  the  polar  ice-caps,  and  each 
year  the  number  caught  decreases.  The  an- 
nual product  of  bone  and  oil  has  now  fallen 


278  THE    SEA   EOVERS 

to  less  than  a  million  and  a  half  of  dollars, 
and  new  whaling  grounds  mnst  soon  be  found 
or  a  great  industry  abandoned.  Already  the 
British  whalers  are  turning  their  attention  to 
the  south  polar  region.  Should  whales  prove 
plentiful  there,  the  Yankees  will  be  sure  to 
follow  in  the  footsteps  of  the  English,  and 
the  energy  and  capital  long  expended  in  the 
far  north  will  be  diverted,  for  a  term  of  years 
at  least,  to  the  other  end  of  the  world. 

THE  END 


A  NOBLE   COMPANY 

OF 

ADVENTURERS 

BT  RUFUS    ROCKWELL    WILSON 

UNDER  THE  ABOVE  TITLE  IS  BEING 
PREPARED  A  COMPANION  VOLUME  TO 
"THE  SEA  ROVERS."  THE  OPENING 
CHAPTER  HAS  TO  DO  WITH  THE  AN- 
CIENT AND  PICTURESQUE  HUDSON  BAY 
FUR  COMPANY,  AND  OTHER  ROMANTIC 
AND  PERILOUS  PURSUITS  DEALT  WITH 
IN  SUBSEQUENT  CHAPTERS  ARE  THOSE 
OF  THE  GOLD  HUNTER,  THE  COWBOY, 
THE  OILMAN,  THE  LUMBERMAN,  THE 
MAKER  OF  STEEL,  THE  COAL  MINER, 
THE  RAILROAD  BUILDER,  THE  CANA- 
DIAN MOUNTED  POLICE,  AND  THE  TEXAS 
RANGER.  THE  NEW  VOLUME  PROM- 
ISES, LIKE  ITS  COMPANION,  TO  GIVE 
DELIGHT  TO  BOYS  OF  ALL  AGES.  IT 
WILL  BE  ISSUED  IN  THE  FALL  OF  1907,  BY 

B.  W.  DODGE  &  CO. 


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